


Sin with a Grin

by StolenChilde



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Established Relationship, Het and Slash, Multi, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 85,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenChilde/pseuds/StolenChilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel are happy together, content with their lives and thrilled to be moving forward. Dean loves his job teaching third grade and Castiel, a War Vet, enjoys his position with the FBI. When a new lead comes up in a case, Castiel has to turn to Dean for help. Dean agrees without question. Things take a curious turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special Thanks to Dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you!

  


“Mister Winchester! Please! You can’t just go in there!” The poor harried secretary called after Dean, waving a plastic visitor’s badge in her hand. “You _need_ to be escorted!”

“Like hell I do,” Dean snarled back and snatched the card from the secretary, barging through the bull pen and to the Special Agent offices beyond.

Castiel heard the raucous from his office and met Dean halfway, grabbing Dean firmly by the elbow, his face expressionless.

“Dean,” Castiel greeted coolly.

“What the hell happened, Cas?” Dean snarled.

“Dean, shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Damnit Cas!” Dean yanked his elbow away and glared at the slightly shorter man. “Tell me what the fuck is going on right now or so help me god…”

“Dean, I highly recommend _not_ threatening a Federal agent while on Federal property,” Castiel was not amused. “Sam is perfectly fine, Dean, you do—”

“Cas stop being a dick, where the fuck is Sam?” Dean snapped.

“He is doing his job like _you_ should be doing. There’s nothing you can do here, Dean. We have it under control,” Castiel tried for placating. He realized people were staring and was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Castiel took Dean by the elbow once again and steered him into his office, shutting the door behind them. Almost the entirety of the front was glass but the office did afford a small measure of privacy in the front right hand corner, which is where Castiel led him.

“You have him in there with that bitch? Alone?” Dean snarled.

“Dean, your brother is a highly trained professional. He is slightly bruised and sustained a broken wrist but was never in any immediate danger. He is perfectly capable of interviewing the suspect without his hand being held or me breathing down his neck and he certainly doesn’t need you there watching over him,” Castiel chastised. “You’re lucky, Dean, that people know you around here. Civilians don’t tend to make a habit of barging into the FBI demanding answers.” It was probably the wrong thing to say. Castiel _knew_ it was the wrong thing to say, but he was a little pissed off as well. 

Dean recoiled away as if he’d been slapped, his expression going stony. It just served to remind him once again that he was relatively useless compared to Castiel and Sam. 

Castiel was highly educated, carrying numerous degrees. He spoke several languages. The older man first earned his undergraduate degree, then his graduate degree in an accelerated program. He was trained in various forms of combat thanks to his Ivy League education and his two tours overseas. Castiel, having been desperate to climb out from under the cloying shadows of his incredibly successful brothers, and feeling the need to rebel, did the one thing his fanatically democratic parents despised: joined the military. He was near genius-level intelligent and his translation duties had been upgraded to strategy and intelligence. He had gone in a translator and had come out a highly decorated soldier, joining the FBI soon after and earning himself an assistant and an office within the first few months of service.

Dean’s little brother Sam was no slouch in the brains department either. He earned himself a full ride to Stanford University, completed his undergraduate degree in Criminal Psychology and Legal Studies, passed his LSATs with one of the highest scores in the history of the exam, and sailed through Law School like it was a cake walk. Upon graduating, Sam landed himself one of the most coveted internships in one of the largest Law Firms in Las Vegas. After a year of incredibly successful lawyering, Sam quickly realized that sitting behind a desk wasn’t for him and applied to the FBI with the glowing recommendation of Castiel. He was accepted quickly, as was usual for Sam, and passed all prerequisites as if they were nothing.

Dean was a third grade teacher at the local elementary school who restored classic cars in his free time… What little of it he possessed.

Dean sighed, forever feeling inadequate next to these two. He supposed he had to admit he wasn’t completely useless though. Dean owed that mostly to his brilliant mother and paranoid ex-marine father. Still, he had nowhere near the achievements that Castiel and Sam could boast of, even if they never _would_ boast.

Dean was a bit of a slacker in high school. Okay, he was a real slacker in high school. It was only afterwards advances in education made him realize that he had not been challenged enough. He needed an extra year in order to graduate but it resulted in his marks increasing substantially. He then took two years off to work at his Uncle Bobby’s garage because he didn’t think school was his thing. He finally decided to give it a shot because his mom’s pleading was finally getting the best of him. Dean never expected to like post-secondary, but it turned out when given his choice of what he studied, he adored it. He earned his undergraduate degree in Engineering with surprising ease and thought maybe he’d do another in Aeronautics. Which was when Dean had a life changing revelation. 

After doing some required extracurricular work where he chose to volunteer at the local elementary school as a tutor, Dean realized he loved kids. He loved seeing their faces light up when they understood something. He loved their laughs and smiles as they enjoyed their day. He loved their rapt attention when they were really, truly interested in something and he loved their innocent joy at every simple success. Above all, he loved helping to make it happen. He immediately went home and cancelled his application to MIT for the AeroAstro Program and began the long application process over again for the Education Program anywhere he could find. 

He was a little surprised when he was accepted at Northwestern on his first try and found himself second guessing his decision more times than not. However when he heard his professor utter the words, “A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove...but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child,” Dean’s heart beat faster, his throat tightened a little and he knew he was in the right place. Needless to say, his mom was over the moon and his dad had that quiet prideful glow when he walked across the stage and held his Bachelor of Education Degree for the first time. 

But still, even with all that, compared to all Sam and especially Cas had done, teaching a few kids to think smart and not be brats was nothing.

“Dean,” Cas said gently. “I understand you’re upset, I get it. If anything had happened to one of my brothers I’d be upset as well. But seriously, Sam is perfectly fine. He knew what he was doing. I was ready to go in there the minute he gave me the distress word.”

Dean sighed. Cas was right but still…

“Why didn’t you tell me until after Cas?” Dean said, hating the hurt in his voice.

“Honestly? Because you worry too much and I thought you teaching your kids was a little more important than wasting time in an emergency room where you’d be utterly useless. Unless you have a degree in radiology hidden in your back pocket, because frankly I wouldn’t be surprised,” Cas gave him a small smile.

Despite himself, Dean smiled back, “Almost, but no.” Dean knew Castiel wasn’t sure if the younger man was joking or not, and really Dean wasn’t. He had changed his mind twice before settling on Engineering.

“Even after nearly four years, you continue to surprise me, Dean Winchester,” Castiel shook his head.

“Part of my charm right?” Dean waggled his eyebrows.

“It helps, but something else entirely had me enthralled when we first met,” Castiel’s answering look was full of innuendo that made Dean’s stomach squiggle happily. 

They had met, of all places, in a bar. Castiel was visiting his surgeon brother and Dean was up for the weekend visiting Sam. As cliché as it sounded, they locked eyes from across the throngs of wriggling bodies moving to the heavy bass beat, and it was lust at first look. Dean figured it would just be one night of utterly amazing sex and he’d go back to Boston on Monday ready to start his new position in a few weeks. Well, the sex didn’t disappoint. It was probably the best night of Dean’s life, and that included comparing the year he spent with his yoga instructor former girlfriend. Dean also did something he never did: he stayed the night and had breakfast the next morning. 

Dean and Castiel quickly realized that they hit it off pretty well, and if Dean experienced a tiny bit of hero worship for the War Veteran turned FBI guy, well, he couldn’t really be blamed, could he? Oddly enough though Castiel seemed to be just as in awe with Dean’s dedication and love of teaching, telling Dean that he thought teachers were the most important influences of a child’s life. Needless to say, the departure was bittersweet but necessary, and neither regretted the night. It was, in fact, the subject of most of Dean’s fantasies for several months to follow. 

Dean flew back to Boston and fell for the alluring Andrea Barr, a friend of Dean’s friend, Anna Milton, and a fellow teacher at the elementary school where Dean had his new position. They only dated for a month before Dean and Andrea both realized that they liked each other, yes, but they would make better friends. Dean was still hung up on the mysterious guy from the club and Andrea found she never could get serious after her husband’s death only a year and half earlier. She had her son Lucas to think about. They parted on amicable terms and Andrea continued to be one of his greatest friends at the school.

“Cas, you know I’ve fantasized about sex in your office since the first time I saw the damn thing, but I don’t think now’s the most appropriate time. I’m still half pissed at you, you know,” Dean’s response was mostly teasing as he countered the seductive note in Castiel’s tone.

Cas rose the short few inches between their heights to press a gentle kiss on Dean’s lips, “I know, I’m sorry. Would it help if you could see Sam?”

Dean gave Castiel a look that required no words whatsoever and Castiel nodded, resigned. He reached down and pried the plastic visitor’s badge out of Dean’s hand and clipped it onto Dean’s shirt collar. Cas smoothed a hand down the soft, expensive green cotton and smiled; he had bought Dean the shirt. Dean frowned and, as always, reached up and fixed Castiel’s loose and askew tie upon catching sight of it.

“Who covered your class anyway?” Castiel asked as he led Dean out of his office. Dean took a moment to admire the neatly painted letters of Castiel’s name on the glass door as he passed it.

A small aid approached Castiel, looking drawn and harried, “Agent L’Ange, Agent Winchester is in Room Five with the suspect.”

“Thank you, Andy,” Castiel said kindly.

Dean grimaced a little before answering Castiel’s question, “Andrea. I owe her a Prep. Our kids both have Phys.Ed. the last part of the day but she generally has the second-to-last period off. She took over my Social Studies and combined our gym classes.” Dean felt guilty at leaving poor gentle Andrea with a horde of energetic seven and eight year olds for one of the most difficult to control periods of the day.

“I see,” Castiel said a little coolly. Dean knew that Andrea was a point of contempt for Castiel, who had a rather spectacular jealous streak when given the right motivation (in this case, Dean was really the only motivation Cas needed), and Dean’s brief, though pleasant, relationship with Andrea occurred in between their first meeting and the meeting that finally got them together for good.

xx

_**Halloween 2007** _

_Castiel was just as surprised as Dean was when he walked through the door dressed as a cowboy (a. because Dean thought cowboys were awesome, and b. Dean’s kids helped pick out his costume. It was very nearly Batman and Dean was grateful every day since that the much sexier cowboy won by a small margin of one single little girl whose uncle worked on a ranch in Texas) and saw Cas dressed as a fairy-tale prince, complete with a blue, silver-embroidered tunic and black riding boots. The slightly older man was leaning by the buffet table and talking quietly with Anna. Or he was talking, until he caught sight of Dean coming in and his mouth paused, hanging comically open. Anna’s curious gaze followed and she grinned, waving Dean over. Dean reigned in the butterflies currently rousting in his stomach with a firm figurative hand and slapped on his best smirk-almost-smile. As expected, Anna faltered for a moment while she inevitably swooned and, not as expected but very welcome, Castiel’s lids lowered fractionally and his eyes darkened. Perfect, slightly chapped lips parted just so and made Dean want to feel them pressed against his own again._

_“Dean!” Anna gushed, very slightly breathless. “I’m so glad you made it, I thought you might not be able to what with the inevitable clean-up you faced tonight.” Dean shrugged. The annual Halloween party the school held was a small, quiet affair with just as many faculty and parents as children. Dean was in charge that year so he had to stay until it was all done but it was a kids’ party after all and most of the kiddies were packed up and shipped out by eight; the only stragglers were children of the staff members. Besides, Dean had already been mostly dressed, all he had to do was throw on his floor length duster and his gun belt which he declined to wear at the school and he was ready to go._

_“Not a big deal,” Dean said with a charming smile. “I had help in the form of the Head Mom wrangling up the kids and parents. I was just on broom duty. Besides, I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you always threw the best parties back in college,” Dean waggled his brows._

_Anna gave him a hug but thanked him again anyway._

_“I want you to meet my cousin, C—” Anna began._

_“Castiel,” Dean interrupted, smiling, “we’ve met.”_

_“Hello Dean,” Castiel greeted smooth and low, a slight smile of his own in place. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. You look magnificent.” Oh yeah, Dean was extremely glad that the kids voted cowboy because Castiel was certainly appreciating the look if his stunningly blue eyes sweeping quickly over Dean was anything to go by._

_“Yeah Cas, you too,” Dean replied, his own voice lowering of its own accord as he felt himself gravitate minimally towards the regally dressed agent._

_They suddenly remembered Anna because she chose that moment to speak up, “Wait, wait, wait, Dean from Palo Alto is Dean **Winchester**? Shut the front door!” Dean was a little startled but very pleased to realize that Castiel had talked about him. Castiel blushed ever-so-slightly at Anna’s unwitting confession._

_“Apparently so,” Castiel murmured._

_“Oh this is too good,” Anna almost squealed in delight. “I have to call Balth **right now**. I’ll let you two catch up! Thanks again so much for coming you guys!” Anna almost pranced away, grabbing a few girlfriends as she went along, her white feathered wings bobbing merrily in her wake._

_Dean suddenly found himself nervous again, “Wow, so… yeah, hey this is just…”_

_“Yes, it is,” Castiel agreed._

_“Yeah, it’s something. So ah…”_

_“Would you like to go out on the balcony? It’s quieter, and I trust you find it as warm in here as I, dressed as we are,” Castiel gestured to the gauzy curtained French doors._

_Well there was no denying that. Even if Dean had decided to come as a surfer instead of a many-layered cowboy he would have found himself helpless **not** to follow Castiel out the doors. They spent the remainder of the night out there, only returning for Anna’s reveal of best costume and a few minutes to eat. Following the party, they found themselves tangled around each other later that night in Dean’s apartment. After that, Dean was hooked. _

_Three months later Castiel told Dean he loved him for the first time, and three months after that they decided to move in together._

xx

Castiel guided Dean through the mess of desks, around hurrying aids and ringing phones, buzzing printers and animatedly talking agents, when they rounded a corner and very nearly ran into a slightly stern looking woman with kind eyes.

“Well what’s this I see, Castiel? Is it bring your kid to work day?” The woman quirked a brow, a little smirk curling her lips. It wasn’t the first time someone had made an off-hand comment about their age difference. It was only four years but Castiel carried himself older and sterner while Dean knew his constantly kid-rumpled clothing and wide eyes made him look a little younger than he was. It was usually only when he smiled that people saw the evidence of his thirty-two years around his eyes.

“Ah Agent Harvelle! I’m just escorting Dean back to see his brother, Agent Winchester. He heard Sam was injured,” Castiel replied, his professional tone slipping slightly with what Dean could only gauge as nerves. He quirked a brow; Castiel didn’t do nervous.

“Dean, huh?” Harvelle smiled, holding out her hand. “It’s a pleasure Son, Castiel has certainly talked about you.”

“Ah… hi…” Dean looked to Cas for help.

Castiel seemed to shake himself out of his shock and introduced the woman properly, “Dean Winchester this is Ellen Harvelle, Special Agent-in-Charge…”

_Shit_! This was Castiel’s freakin’ boss and Dean looked like a college kid in his Friday jeans and not-so-fresh button down. At least he was wearing his good brown dress shoes and not his scuffed runners like he would normally, had he taken the kids to Phys.Ed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am,” Dean stuttered out. 

Boston wasn’t large enough to warrant a Deputy Director, that was only reserved for the larger FBI branches in Los Angeles, New York and D.C. but each smaller branch of the FBI had a Special Agent-in-Charge and their word was _the_ word. Special Agent Harvelle looked as if she took bullshit from no one. She couldn’t in an ol’ boys’ club like the FBI and Dean had just barrelled in here demanding answers, using his relationship with Cas and Sam to his advantage. Dean hoped it wouldn’t get Castiel in trouble and swallowed nervously. 

“You too, Kiddo,” the woman said amicably. “Your brother’s just down the hall, you can see for yourself from the observation room that he’s just fine. I just left there myself. Poor kid’s wrist is banged up good and he’ll be a desk jockey for the next six to eight weeks but he brought in someone I’ve been wanting for a long time. That boy did us proud. See you around Castiel, and make sure your guy here signs in on his way out.” Dean swore he saw the woman wink but was too busy being mortified and afraid for Castiel’s position to notice properly. 

Castiel blanched a little. “Y—” he began then coughed and cleared his throat, “yes, Ma’am.” After Special Agent Ellen Harvelle rounded the corner, Castiel grabbed Dean’s elbow again in a not-so-gentle grip and directed him to the interview room where Sam was. He was very quiet on the short way there, icily quiet and Dean didn’t look over for fear of seeing the stony expression he knew would have his blue gaze stilted. Oh yeah, seemed that Dean and the couch may be having one of their special nights tonight.

xx

After Dean saw that Sam was indeed fine, and when he was cleared to leave, Sam and Dean decided to stop and have an early dinner before heading home. Castiel declined, claiming paperwork, but they had been together long enough for Dean to know that Castiel really just needed time to reign in his anger. Dean was nobody special. He really had no good reason to have been there today aside from his overprotective instincts towards his little brother. Castiel was far more capable than Dean could ever hope to be and Sam frankly didn’t need him anymore. Family members did visit the FBI occasionally, that was nothing unusual. Family members _didn’t_ tend to storm in and demand answers like they owned the joint.

“Dean, he’ll get over it,” Sam said quietly as he picked at his chicken salad. His _grilled_ chicken salad, not even breaded. Dean made a face as he took another hearty bite of his double bacon cheeseburger. Sam spared Dean’s dinner a similar look of distaste.

“I eat healthy in front of my brats all friggin’ day, if I wanna get a burger, I’m getting a burger,” Dean said defensively around the food in his mouth, just because he knew it bugged the hell out of Sam. If Castiel had joined them Dean would have never have gotten away with it. But Cas wasn’t here. Dean pouted (frowned, not pouted!) and his next bite was not as enthusiastic.

“Dude, gross,” Sam scowled. At that Dean had to grin; big fancy lawyer-turned-FBI-guy and Sam still said ‘dude.’ Dean had to love his little brother.

“I dunno Sammy, things have been rocky lately. I’ve been spending more time with Andrea - and you know how Cas feels about her - because of planning for the Halloween thing. It’s bigger this year because we’re fundraising for all the recent natural disasters so we’re doing a funhouse, games, a corn maze. Heck, I think Missouri even managed to score us a Ferris Wheel or something. So there’s that, and the first month or so back is always hard, so I’m beat to shit at the end of the day and you and Cas have been dealing with that crime ring thing so he’s been coming home late…” Dean shook his head and tossed his burger onto his plate, pushing the heavy white porcelain away. The older Winchester pulled the square sugar holder towards him and began sorting the colours, pressing them down so they were nestled evenly together.

“Look Dean, maybe you and Cas just need to take some time for each other. I’ve noticed he’s been a lot more stressed at work lately. Why don’t you go out to the cabin for the weekend or something? Since this phase of the case has wrapped up, Agent Harvelle gave us both a week off…” Sammy trailed off. Instead of the suggestion brightening Dean’s spirits as was the intention, the mention of their boss only served to remind Dean of his big screw up today. He groaned and slumped down.

“Mama look! I can give it to him after all!” a little voice piped up from across the restaurant.

“Sydney, no… Just wait until after the weekend, I’m sure he—”

“Mister Winchester! Mister Winchester!” 

Dean’s head snapped up and he abruptly straightened in his seat. Sam saw Dean literally alter himself physically, though probably subconsciously. His expression schooled slightly, though it retained an element of his familiar smile. His eyes softened and his posture straightened, worries from that afternoon buried for the moment.

Dean and Cas lived fairly close to the school Dean taught at, which of course meant inevitably running into his students on occasion. He didn’t mind so much, really. He knew half the time, in this day and age with both parents working so much, he spent more time with the kids than their own families did and children this age tended to imprint on whatever adult in their life they could. Dean, of course, always kept perfectly professional, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t spare them a kind ear and a smile if he ran into any of them outside of school.

“Hello Sydney. Just came from dance did you? Will we get to hear all about it Monday morning?” Dean smiled at the blonde little girl, dressed in a pink and white leotard, her curls falling from a ponytail at the top of her head.

“Yep! We learned this butterfly thing today! It was super fun but I’ll tell you all about it Monday. I just wanted to give you this. I made it in art class today. We had to pick a picture from a hat and draw it. I got a car; I know you like cars and thought you might like it, but then you were sick. Did you have a tummy ache?” Sydney said in one long rush. It wasn’t hard for Sam to miss the hint of hero worship and a budding crush in the eight-year-old’s eyes.

“No, not a stomach-ache,” Dean replied. “I had some big brother things to take care of. Now let’s see this picture.” _To Mr. Winchester_ was scrawled happily across it in little girl writing and below was the car Sydney drew, if not realistically, then certainly enthusiastically. _From Sydney_ abruptly finished the image.

“Excellent work Sydney! I see that extra time with our ‘little Ds’ and ‘little Bs’ has helped. I like this very much Sydney, thank you. I’m going to put your drawing on the cupboards behind my desk on Monday,” Dean smiled at the little girl.

Sydney nodded back, “I know which way to put my D now Mr. Winchester! Not backwards anymore!”

“All right Sydney. Thank Mister Winchester for allowing us to interrupt his nice dinner. We have to go home now,” Sydney’s mother said gently.

“Thanks! Bye Mr. Winchester!” Sydney took her mother’s hand and waved behind her.

“I’m so sorry Dean,” Sydney’s mother mouthed.

“No worries, you have a good weekend,” Dean flashed her a grin. The woman flushed and turned away. After she picked up her take-out bag from the waitress at the counter, she tossed Dean a shy little smile before leaving the restaurant, daughter in tow.

“Dude. Wow. Like Twilight Zone, wow,” Sam was looking at his brother slightly wide-eyed. He knew Dean wouldn’t be his brash self in the classroom but still… witnessing it was something else entirely.

“Shuddup,” Dean tossed a fry at his hulk of a little brother. “What do you want me to do, drop f-bombs and make snide remarks at her? Sheesh, Sammy, I’m a professional.”

Sam chuckled, then shot his brother a cheeky grin, “So you and Cas ever role play, because I’m sure he’d get a hell of a kick outta Teacher-Dean giving him a detention.”

“Don’t you know it,” Dean returned with a filthy grin.

“Aww, man, walked into that one. Visuals are burning my retinas,” Sam shuddered. So Sam’s plan of embarrassing his shameless brother utterly failed but it was worth it to see him coming back to himself a little. 

“You should see what he does with his handcuffs…” Dean added.

“Wow Dude! TMI! Line: here. Dean: here,” Sam gestured on the table.

“Well at least now you’ll pick your plays a little more carefully in the future, because this is one game you ain’t beating me at, Sammy.” Dean leaned back against his seat, far too pleased with himself for Sam to let him get away with it. The younger Winchester opted to toss a piece of lettuce at the elder as punishment. It fluttered limply for a moment before falling far shy of its target.

“FBI training at its finest. Maybe you should go back to agent school Sammy,” Dean said patronizingly. He picked up the piece of lettuce then put it on his plate, quickly wiping up the residue with a neatly folded napkin.

“Hilarious,” Sam deadpanned and stood, scooping up the check that their waitress had brought over as they spoke. “I got this.”

“Thanks. I’ll take the cabin,” Dean said.

“Great,” Sam smiled.

xx

When Dean entered their apartment it was to find Cas leaning in the doorway leading to the kitchen, dish towel over his shoulder, cup of tea in hand, sleeves of his white button down rolled up to his elbows. The tie, jacket, and Castiel’s socks had been discarded as usual as soon as he got home. Dean thought he looked amazing, and felt a little twinge in his chest that he had let himself basically ignore this gorgeous man for so long.

“Hey you,” Dean smiled gently.

“Hey yourself,” Castiel returned, that private smile curling his lips. Dean came over and decided to kiss it off. They lingered together for a moment, Dean’s hand curling around Castiel’s waist before he squeezed once and pulled away, helping himself to a sip of Castiel’s tea as he did so. Cas quietly accepted his mug back after Dean was finished with it.

“You eat?” Dean asked, moving into the kitchen.

“Yes,” Castiel replied, following.

“Sam, rabbit that he is, didn’t finish his salad. A freakin’ salad and he didn’t finish it! I’ll put it in here if you’re hungry later,” Dean said as he leaned into the fridge, pushing aside the bottles of water to make space for the food. He still couldn’t convince Cas that filtering the water was just as good as the bottled stuff. Dean actually found he preferred the taste of filtered over the bottled now. He was trying to teach sustainability after all, and as he always taught his kids, it starts at home. Cas couldn’t pass up the convenience and Dean couldn’t really fault the busy agent for that one.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, taking another sip of his tea.

“That’s different, what is it?” Dean nodded at the orange mug Castiel held.

“Chai. Mrs. Brar, the woman who just moved in with her husband down the hall? Taught me to make it the Indian way,” Cas answered.

“I like it,” Dean remarked. Without asking or waiting for Dean’s request, Cas set about heating the milk over the stovetop for the tea.

Dean came over and wrapped his hands around the smaller man’s waist, resting his chin on Castiel’s firm shoulder. He watched as Cas added the herbs, spices, and tea leaves. 

“Brar… That an Indian name then?” Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged, “Punjabi.” Dean nodded and watched as Castiel gently stirred the milk and herbs that were rapidly darkening. Castiel nodded his head to the coffee pot and Dean reached forward to grab the bowl of sugar they kept there. Castiel took the sugar bowl with a soft ‘thank you,’ added it, and stirred again.

“Dean-”

“Cas-”

They began in unison. Castiel reached over and lowered the heat to allow the tea to simmer before turning in the circle of Dean’s arms and putting his hands gently on either side of the younger man’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said.

“Me too,” Dean grinned in reply. “Though it was all my screw-up. You don’t need to apologize.”

“Even so,” Castiel returned. “I did overreact, and for that I apologize. It wasn’t necessary. You were worried. I should have understood that better.”

“Well I shouldn’t have barged into the Federal building like you just arrested my 90-year-old grandmother or something,” Dean shrugged.

Castiel opened his mouth to counter again but then he let his lips lift in a faintly amused smile, “We could do this all night. So we’ll agree we’ve said our final apologies and we’ll move on. All right?”

“Deal,” Dean nodded.

“Excellent,” Castiel answered. Dean leaned down and kissed Cas again just because he was in the perfect position to do so and Castiel responded by wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and leaning into the heat of his body. They stood there, kissing gently and languidly for a few moments, enjoying the closeness that they had unwittingly deprived themselves of for the last several weeks. Dean pulled away and rested his forehead on Castiel’s shoulder, inhaling the uniqueness of his scent before giving him a tight squeeze and pulling back with a contented sigh.

“Anything record last night?” Dean asked, going over to lean on the counter as Castiel poured the tea into a mug for Dean and the remainder into his own cooled one.

Castiel paused, thinking, “Bones, I think. I know you have a crush on that Booth character.”

“I think he’s hot, so what? I got a thing for Federal Agents,” Dean grinned.

“Oh? I never would have guessed,” Castiel smiled teasingly back, drying his hands and finally relinquishing the dish towel from his shoulder. He put it down on the counter. Dean went over and carefully hung it up. 

Castiel continued, “It’s one of the only procedural crime dramas I can tolerate. At least they seem to do their research, and I find forensic anthropology fascinating. I picked up a few of the novels the program is based upon. They’re really quite good. You should read them. The author is an actual forensic anthropologist which lends a lot to their credibility.”

“Oh yeah? Will do,” Dean replied, letting Cas lead the way out of the kitchen and pick a spot on the couch first. As usual, Castiel picked the corner closest to the kitchen, settling gently down and crossing his ankle over his knee. Dean sprawled next to him, leaning against the other side and kicking his bare feet up into Castiel’s lap. As Castiel began the show and began gently rubbing Dean’s ankle with his free hand, Dean wondered how on Earth he got so lucky. Castiel flashed Dean one of his rare brilliant smiles, thinking the exact same thing.

“Hey, you’re off this weekend right?” Dean asked as Castiel began skipping commercials about fifteen minutes into the show.

“Yes, why?” Castiel asked.

Dean grinned, “I have a plan.”

“Should I be concerned?” Castiel quirked a brow.

Dean grinned in response, “Maybe.” 

Castiel chuckled.

 

**End Chapter**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Dapperscript for the beta!

Castiel woke the next morning feeling more rested than he had in a long time and stretched languidly. His body was pleasantly achy - the evidence of their activities the previous night - and Castiel allowed himself a happy little sigh. He rolled over to greet Dean, but realized the bed was empty. It wasn’t really terribly surprising. Since Dean started teaching, he had become an early riser. Cas sat up, the sheets falling from his bare chest, and the first thing he noticed was one of their smaller suitcases sitting out by the closet. It was packed, by the looks of how puffy it was. Castiel cocked his head and let out a little musing sound. He slid out of bed and grabbed Dean’s discarded jeans from the night before and pulled them on, the slightly-oversized denim hanging from his hips. He went in search of the younger man, and perhaps an explanation for the suitcase.

When Cas found Dean, the taller man was busily puttering around the kitchen, dressed in a loose pair of draw-string pants and one of Castiel’s Bureau T-shirts. Dean was slightly broader than Castiel and the black material was pulled pleasantly snug across his chest and shoulders.

Castiel padded up behind him and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, peering over his shoulder to watch Dean put the finishing touches on the breakfast he was preparing: crepes with fresh berries, whipped cream and powdered sugar. Castiel’s lips curved into a smile against Dean’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” he said gently.

“Morning,” Dean returned, turning his head to place an awkward - but sweet - kiss against Castiel’s nearest temple.

“So are you going to tell me about your great mystery and why I’ve earned myself a five-star breakfast, or do I have to guess?” Castiel asked, releasing Dean and picking up the silverware and cups of coffee as Dean carried the plates over to the table.

“Aren’t you good at guessing? It is your job after all,” Dean flashed Cas a grin.

“I’m good at investigating. I’m horrible at guessing,” Castiel corrected.

“Well I’m great at keeping secrets, secret. So you’ll just have to wait and see,” Dean answered. “Now dig in, I slaved all morning.”

“Well thank you, I will,” Castiel answered. As usual, the breakfast was excellent; over the years Castiel found that Dean was a surprisingly good cook given the right meal, and various breakfasts were his speciality. As long as Castiel didn’t let Dean near a frying pan for anything other than breakfast, he was good. He still hadn’t quite mastered the oven either, and for the first little while, before Castiel resigned himself to cooking dinner, they lived on a stable diet of various pieces of charcoal masquerading as meat and vegetables. Though give the younger man breakfast to cook (or anything to grill) and he somehow transformed into a culinary master.

“I called Andy and ordered him not to bug you for anything other than life or death, and Andrea and I basically have the carnival in the bag so we’re good there. If there’s anything you need to do this weekend, let me know and we’ll get it done this morning,” Dean said after a few moments of companionable silence.

“You called my assistant? Now I’m really intrigued,” Castiel replied.

Dean shrugged in response, “It’s not really that big of a deal. I just figured after all the shit both of us have been handling lately, we deserved a break.”

“Well I agree. I only need to drop my dry-cleaning off; other than that I had no specific plans,” Castiel said.

“Great. We’ll do that on the way then,” Dean nodded. 

“On the way where, again?” Cas asked casually, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Ha, ha, good try. Not happening,” Dean replied. Castiel smiled around the rim of his coffee cup.

xx

Dean smiled, letting the warm early autumn breeze caress his face, feeling the thrum of the bass from his speakers, the smooth wheel of his baby under his hands and perfectly content to be sitting, saying nothing with Castiel beside him.

“We haven’t been to the cabin in ages,” Castiel remarked with a smile. “This was a very good idea.” Once they got on the highway it didn’t take Castiel long to realize where they were going.

“Right? You can thank Sam for it. He’s the one who basically shoved it down my throat. I think he was sick of all your sexual frustration at work and wanted you to relax,” Dean grinned.

“Well certainly no more sexual frustration on my end,” Castiel replied. They lapsed into a few moments of comfortable silence once more, then Dean felt that irritating little twinge in his stomach again.

“Hey Cas?” Dean said shyly.

Castiel turned, “Yes Dean?”

“Sorry again, okay? I still feel like a bit of a shit for basically ignoring you for two months,” Dean shifted uncomfortably.

“Dean,” Castiel reached across the bench seat and squeezed Dean’s nearest knee, “we’ve been over this. It was just as much my fault as yours. We’ve both been busy. No more apologies. It can’t be perfect all the time.”

Dean pouted, though he’d never admit to the pout, and said, “Why not?”

Castiel chuckled at how very young Dean seemed just then and gave his knee another squeeze, “Because if it was perfect all the time we’d never be able appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean replied. “Well it’s my job to make it as close to perfect as possible, so that’s precisely what I’m going to use this weekend for.”

After a few miles, they found themselves pulling into the gas station. Dean’s Impala may have been a gorgeous piece of automobile genius, but she was not exactly easy on fuel.

“Hey, isn’t that the diner that has that apple pie you like?” Castiel asked, nodding across the parking lot. Dean paused in climbing out of the car to stare in the direction Castiel was indicating.

“Yeah, actually,” Dean replied. Castiel smiled at him and reached into the glove compartment, pulling out his badge and gun, reattaching them both to his person. As a Federal Agent he was required to carry them at all times, unless he was drinking. Dean felt a strange combination of anxiety and comfort knowing that Castiel was always armed, but it was part of the job. He knew for Sammy that was one of the hardest things for him to get used to. Jess hated guns. 

“I’ll be right back,” Castiel said, sliding out of the Impala and jogging across the parking lot to the diner.

As Dean stood pumping the gas into the Impala and humming quietly to himself, he felt an odd little frisson creep up his spine and cause the hair at the back of his neck to rise. Dean shivered in his leather jacket and looked around the gas station suspiciously. He mentally urged the gas to pump faster and only relaxed when Cas and his gun appeared from the diner, white bag in hand that held Dean’s pie.

“Hey Babe?” Dean called. Castiel frowned at Dean’s tone and quickened his pace a little as he approached.

“What is it?” Castiel asked, shifting modes.

“Your spidey senses tingling?” Dean asked in a low voice once Cas was at his side. Castiel peered around, trained eyes peeled for anything suspicious, hand shifting to hover over the holster that held his Government-issued Glock. Though not entirely likely, Castiel and Sam did just land what Dean assumed was a fairly big fish, with all the potential danger that entailed. Rings like the one Castiel took down didn’t necessarily go quietly. Dean didn’t really think they would be a target, but he wasn’t entirely prepared to rule it out either.

“Did you see something?” Castiel asked.

“No, not really. I just… funny feeling. But if you think the coast is clear, your instincts are better than mine,” Dean shrugged. Castiel relaxed fractionally, but he remained leaning against the car until Dean finished filling the tank. 

“I’ll pay, you get in the car,” Castiel said. Dean normally would have argued the treatment - he certainly wasn’t a damsel in distress - but he was still a little on edge and complied, handing Castiel his gas card before tucking his wallet away.

Cas smiled. “Be right back.” After Dean watched Castiel enter the gas station, he hit the locks on the Impala and sat drumming on the steering wheel, peering around the station for what had set him off earlier. He shrugged it off and chalked it up to his father’s inherited paranoia. Castiel seemed to be taking an awful long time, though.

Dean could not shake his anxious feeling and shot his gaze around the lot. The gas station part of it was basically empty, except for a young looking brunette woman filling up the tank of a new black Charger one pump over. He wondered idly where she got the money, but opted not to stare too long. The diner lot across the way had a few more cars, but not many. Dean shot green eyes around and fidgeted for a moment. His hand itched and reached out for the glove compartment, jumping embarrassingly when the young woman’s car door slammed shut and she peeled out of the gas station with probably more speed than necessary. Dean returned his attention to the just-interrupted task at hand and tried to ease his pounding heart.

When Castiel returned unscathed a few minutes later, it was to Dean sorting and organizing his glove compartment. Castiel placed a hand over Dean’s and gave him a gentle, sympathetic look.

“Dean, it’s all right,” Castiel said quietly. Dean coughed and snatched his hands away from the only half organized storage flap, trying not to think about it being only half done.

“Let’s go,” he said gruffly. Castiel took his badge out of his pocket and his gun out of his holster, tucking them neatly away before buckling his seat belt. Only then did Dean start the car and pull out of the station.

xx

The first thing Dean did when they entered the cabin was not take Castiel to the bedroom and show him just how much he missed him, like he had intended ever since he agreed to use the cabin. No, the first thing Dean did when they entered the cabin was clean; all the while he felt Castiel’s eyes on him, watching with quiet resignation as Dean moved from one mindless calming task to the other. It didn’t take as long as Dean would have liked; once a week a local woman came in to clean up the cabin and made sure everything was in working order. It had been Sam and Dean’s grandfather’s, and though it had technically been left to their dad upon Gramps’ passing, Sam and Dean stayed in the place more often than their dad did and took over the majority of the fees required for its upkeep. The maid had been Sam’s idea, because when they were both younger he had been sick of watching Dean give the place a thorough scrub down before they could do anything fun.

“Dean,” Castiel said gently.

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean snapped. He hated being on edge and feeling so utterly useless. What if his imagined threat had actually been real and Cas hadn’t been there to back him up? Or worse yet, what if whatever was there had attacked Cas and Dean could just watch on helplessly? Yes, Dean was trained better than your average grade-school teacher when it came to weapons and self-defence, but he didn’t have a Weapon’s permit. Not that Dean had any desire to have a gun anyway.

A retort was on the tip of Castiel’s tongue but he swallowed it back and flashed Dean a smile instead, “Let go to that fish and chips place down the road.”

“Okay,” Dean said.

xx

As soon as their waitress sat them and brought over small plates of milk, cream and butter, Dean’s fingers twitched over them, sorting the haphazard piles into neat patterns and rows. In the middle of Dean’s organization of the sugar packets, Castiel’s hand closed over Dean’s and he pulled it away, putting it flat on the table and refused to let go of Dean’s hand until the wood of the small table no longer vibrated with each bounce of Dean’s right knee.

“Dean, we’re fine,” Castiel said low and firmly, leaning closer to the younger man. “I understand you had a jolt today, I get it, I do. That is not a fun feeling whatsoever, but: We. Are. Fine. So stop trying to order and control something that isn’t there to be ordered and controlled. All right?”

Dean’s hand clenched into a fist underneath Castiel’s before he let out a shaky breath and nodded, “Sure.”

“I’m not convinced,” Castiel responded flatly.

“I said okay, Cas,” Dean hissed in response, leaning towards the other man, eyes flashing.

Castiel released Dean’s hand and held both of his up in the classic surrender. Dean glared at him a moment before opening his menu with a resounding finality, even though they stopped needing them years ago. 

Castiel watched Dean carefully for a moment, keen blue eyes tracing over Dean’s face before he turned his attention away, somewhat satisfied with what he found, and flagged down Margery.

“The usual, Kids?” the woman asked. She was probably only about five or six years older than Cas, but she never failed to call them kids. It had annoyed Cas at first but Dean had reassured him that she was only doing it because she liked them. It was a habit left over from when their dad would bring Dean and Sam here as boys, and once Castiel became attached to Dean, so too the nickname became attached to Cas.

“Yes please,” Cas answered for them both because Dean had lapsed into pouty silence. Exasperated, Castiel rolled his eyes. Dean’s swell would break soon though, and Cas knew they just had to ride it out. 

“Sorry,” Dean said quietly a few moments later.

“It’s all right, Love,” Castiel replied gently. Dean blushed at the endearment, as he always did, and shot Cas a shy smile, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“Seriously, Dude?” Dean wrinkled his nose.

“Whatever works,” Castiel responded with an answering smile. The rest of the meal rolled by as if nothing had happened and Castiel was grateful for it. Soon enough, Cas found himself sliding his card across the table after getting the cheque, then signed on the dotted line, leaving a generous tip for the always indulgent Margery. As they stood and walked to the door, Dean wrapped and arm around Castiel’s waist and leaned in to press a kiss to the agent’s temple.

“Thanks Babe,” he said quietly in Castiel’s ear. _Thanks for dinner. Thanks for understanding. Thanks for putting up with my bullshit._

“There’s no need to thank me, Dean, but you’re very welcome nonetheless,” Cas responded seriously, then waited a beat before flashing Dean a wicked grin. “Though if you want to show me just how thankful you are when we get back to the cabin, I’m not going to argue in the slightest.”

“Is that so?” Dean quirked a brow, grinning, squeezing the ticklish spot at Castiel’s side and causing the slighter man to wriggle away from him with a laugh.

xx

Once the exit of the two men was singled by the cheerful ringing of the bell at the door, a young woman in a booth in the back got up and laid a twenty dollar bill down on the table. As she exited the restaurant through the side entrance, she pulled off her blonde wig and shook out her long dark hair, tucking the wig in her coat and walking down the street, pulling out a cell phone as she did.

**End Chapter**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to Dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you! I did play with it a tiny bit after it was checked over, so any further mistakes are my own!

The following Monday, the moment Andrea saw him enter the staff room and head for the coffee pot she said, “About time. Sheesh!”

Dean flashed the woman a smile. “My God, it’s not that obvious is it?”

“Nah, I just know the look,” Andrea shrugged with a smile. Dean flashed back briefly and he had to concede that, yes, this woman did know the look. She had put it there on more than one occasion several years before, or something close to it anyway.

“How was your weekend?” Dean asked, leaning against the counter and taking a test sip of his coffee. He squawked faintly as the still-too-hot liquid burned his lip. 

Andrea tutted at him then answered, “Wasn’t nearly as fun as yours by the look of things, but it was all right. Took Lucas to get his Halloween costume. And you know how he is. It took him an hour to decide whether or not he wanted to be Batman or a demon.”

“And…?” Dean asked.

“Batman,” Andrea replied.

Dean nodded sagely, “I totally respect his decision. Batman is awesome.”

Andrea’s laugh was light and musical and Dean couldn’t help but smile at it.

“I dunno, I know he’s not DC but I always preferred Spiderman, _I_ could be Batman with enough start-up capital,” his geeky friend responded.

Dean grinned, “Nice.”

“What’s nice?” Matt, the sixth grade teacher, asked as he came into the room. He was tall and lanky, around Dean’s age, with a deep, easy voice, dark brown eyes and black hair. Dean had kind of had a crush on him when they first met, but then he met Cas again and he got over it pretty quick. Matt was still one of his favourite colleagues at the school though. He had the best taste in modern and classic music that Dean had seen in a while, the entire collection of which he still kept on records and CDs, preferring the sound over digital downloads.

“Andrea’s gonna be Batman when she gets the funds,” Dean answered.

“Nice,” Matt flashed an easy grin over his shoulder. “You seem to be doing better.”

Dean fought the urge to blush; maybe he was that obvious. “I had a good weekend.”

Matt gave him a small knowing smile, “I see.”

The first strains of child voices drifted in from the window and Dean quickly gulped his coffee and put his mug in the sink. “Shit. I’m up. See you guys later.”

Dean jogged down the hall, giving Principal Missouri Moseley a chagrined look over being late for yard duty. She just smiled and shook her head, patting his shoulder as he passed. 

When Dean got out to the yard, he was immediately surrounded by several students, both past and present, all clamouring for his attention. It wasn’t a secret he was the most popular teacher at the school, and yeah, maybe he took just a little bit of pride in that. But it went both ways; these were a great bunch of kids and Dean couldn’t think of leaving unless he was forced to leave.

Dean really didn’t mind early morning yard duty. The kids were always fresh and eager for the day, not yet dragged down by whatever drama that would visit them later on, and excited to share news about their weekends or nights. Yeah, it sucked in the winter when the snow rolled in. His hands shoved deep in his pockets, the early morning chill cutting at Dean’s face as he shivered, but it also got him out of hall duty at lunch which had to be one of the most boring tasks assigned. It consisted mostly of wandering back and forth up and down the corridor, poking his head into the occasional classroom to check if the kids were still breathing and not climbing the walls. Again, this was a great group of respectful kids and he rarely had to intervene. After this small comfortable school that felt like family, Dean didn’t think he’d ever be able to return to the big city schools where he got his start, but then again, he was nothing if not adaptable. 

“Hey! Adam, off of there!” Dean called across the yard. The wilily fifth grader paused mid-climb on the cement partition that separated the yard from the parking lot, before slithering off of it and running the other way as if that had been his intention all along. Dean rolled his eyes with a grin. 

Dean prided himself in knowing most of the kids’ names at the school. It wasn’t a massive school so it wasn’t terribly difficult, and he never quite got the kindergarteners down right away because he spent so little time around them. But Dean knew more of the kids’ names than even the most senior faculty, who had been here through siblings and family legacies. He always made it a habit to know all his kids’ names within the first two days of school, even if it meant he had to make himself a cheat sheet. He knew it was important to establish that connection immediately or you’d lose them for the rest of the term. It was getting easier now that he had been here longer.

The bell rang and it was the usual bustle for the doors, older kids going to one set around the side of the building to line up, while the younger ones went to the closer doors.

“Dan! Kyle! Gonna beat you inside if you don’t hustle!” Dean shouted out to a few of the stragglers making their way in. He made a show of racing to the doors and the boys quickly picked up their pace, sending Dean thrilled grins as they peeled past him and found their places in line. Yeah, his job was kind of awesome.

xx

Dean managed somehow to score the period just before lunch as his prep time, and he found a pleasant surprise waiting in his classroom after he finished escorting his kids to the library. Castiel sat at his desk, feet up on the wood, in jeans and a casual button down, coffees sitting on Dean’s desk from Dean’s favourite coffee place.

“I love you,” Dean flashed the man a smile, taking the coffee Castiel had retrieved and handed to him, sipping it blissfully.

“I know,” Castiel replied. Dean pushed Castiel’s feet off his desk with a thump and took the place vacated by them. Dean noticed a few of his papers had been shuffled around. His fingers twitched to straighten them but one look at Castiel and he managed to shrug it off.

Castiel flashed him a brilliant smile, “How’s your day going?”

“Well, a couple of the brats have a case of the Mondays, but otherwise it’s good. You sick of your vacation yet?” Dean replied.

Castiel chuckled, “You know I am. Though Ellen insists we all take at least a week after wrapping a big case, so I just have to accept my lot in life. Oh! As I was coming in, Missouri cornered me and somehow I’ve been ‘volun-told’ to help supervise the haunted house for your carnival… And apparently I’m giving the children a talk at the next career day assembly.”

Dean grinned, “Really? Gotta love that woman’s spunk. Rope Sam into helping you with the talk, he gets flustered around kids and it’s a riot.”

“I will indeed,” Castiel answered. “Do you have a lot of work to do?”

Dean frowned down at his desk and sorted through his mental schedule, seeing if he had to finish any lesson planning or prepare anything for the kids. Math was patterning with manipulatives this afternoon, so that wasn’t an issue. The book and questions were prepared for Language. His least favourite class, Social Studies, was out of the way this morning along with Science, and Gym was never really a challenge. 

“Nope, I’m good,” Dean answered.

“Let’s go home,” Castiel said with a meaningful smile. Dean grinned and grabbed his jacket, letting the secretary know he was leaving the premises for the next little while. She smiled knowingly at him. 

xx

An hour later, the small brunette woman watched, concealed in the shadows of an alley as Castiel ushered his little plaything into a big black car with a blissful smile. She scowled at the image it made, narrowing her eyes. Two more laughs and teasing kisses, and the man in the black sports blazer finally shut the door of the car and peeled away from the curb. The young woman watched the direction he turned at the end of the street then started her car, pulling casually out of the alley as Castiel’s back disappeared into the building. Only about five minutes later she watched as the big black car pulled into the parking lot of a small elementary school and the man climbed out, jogging jauntily to the front doors. The woman raised a surprised eyebrow and smiled, gliding past the school and picking up her cell phone.

xx

Castiel cracked open one eye and glared at his Blackberry vibrating with irritating abandon. Castiel rolled over in the early afternoon sunlight, white sheets still rumpled from his impromptu visit with Dean, and he slapped at the little device. The large touch screen told him it was Sam calling and Castiel quirked an eyebrow. This could be just as easily a social call as work related, and though Castiel found staying at home and feeling useless for a week endlessly monotonous, he did like the little indulgences that the time off allowed. As such, he was hoping for it to be social. Sam could just as easily be bored at home with Jessica at work. That niggling sixth sense honed from years of service told Castiel that it was not, in fact, a social call. Resigned, he answered.

“What catastrophe has struck the world this afternoon?” Cas asked in greeting, his voice low and liquid from both his stolen nap and stolen intimacy from earlier.

“Wow, what have you been up to?” Sam asked.

“I know you really don’t want me to answer that,” Castiel replied, not able to keep the grin out of his voice.

“Well it’s nice to hear you’re finally relaxing,” Sam responded with a light laugh. “You two drive me insane sometimes. Ruby decided she wanted to talk; she had a phone call from her lawyer only a short while ago and was apparently encouraged to do so.”

“Vacation over then?” Castiel asked, sitting up with a stretch, feeling tendon, muscle and bone pop sinuously. He slid off the bed, sheet falling away from his nudity as he stooped to grab a pair of draw-string pants that had been discarded on the floor. He cocked his head and looked at them for a moment, trying to determine whom they belonged to, then decided that he didn’t actually care and slipped them on. Even with the waist cinched tightly, they hung under the sharp swell of his hipbone. Dean’s then. Castiel shrugged as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Sam was saying. “Ellen promised to give us an extra couple days when this wraps up. You know how badly she wants these guys.”

“I can’t say I blame her,” Castiel agreed, filling the kettle as he did so. “I never enjoyed staying home so long anyway. I don’t mind.”

“Neither do I. This place sucks without Jess, anyway. I found myself playing with the damn cat for an hour because I had nothing better to do. That creature doesn’t even like me.” Castiel heard the mock shudder in Sam’s tone.

Cas chuckled, “I think he’s cute.”

“You think anything small and fuzzy is cute, no matter how much of a terror they are. Anyway, Ellen’s given us two hours to get down to HQ. I’ll see you there.”

“Yes, see you later, Sam,” Castiel nodded though he knew his partner couldn’t see. 

Before Castiel left, he made sure the kitchen was neat and organized, then left Dean a note on the counter. Back in suit and tie, he grabbed his overcoat and headed into work.

xx

Dean came home to an empty apartment and quirked an eyebrow, until he saw the note on the counter along with instructions on how to precisely heat up the small dinner Castiel had prepared for him. Dean shook his head at his house-wifeish boyfriend but found himself smiling nonetheless. Chicken, rice and green beans were placed in the toaster oven after Dean retrieved them from the fridge, and he made sure to double check the timer and temperature setting.

Apparently Sam and Cas had got another break in their case. It must have been a big one for their boss to call them in from their time off to handle it. Or their witness was being especially demanding and would only discuss whatever it was they knew with the partners. 

After Dean ate, he stared at his satchel that had his students’ work waiting to be graded and lesson plans needing finishing touches. He looked longingly at the novels Castiel had neatly stacked on the coffee table, then back at his satchel. Grumbling, he grabbed the brown leather and headed to his desk and waiting laptop, then settled in for another glamorous night as a grade-school teacher.

xx

When Castiel came home that night well after eleven o’clock, he stared at Dean’s slumbering form on the couch for a full ten minutes before he found he could bring himself to do anything. A lump of anxiety was slowly building in his stomach and his heart fluttered offbeat in his chest. 

Yes, he was aware this was the best option given Dean’s knowledge, skill set and training but he also wanted Dean as far away from his work as humanly possible. Cas had lost far too many people in his relatively short life and the thought of Dean getting mixed up in the more violent aspect of it made Cas literally sick to his stomach. There was also the FBI side of him that niggled that this solution was just too damn convenient, almost if it had been tailor-made for them. Which, of course, Cas had to conclude was nonsense.

Combined with Castiel’s personal fear, there was also a pounding guilt for what he had to suggest to the younger man. Castiel knew Dean adored his kids and his school, but he also knew the man had an almost martyr-like desire to help on a larger scale. Dean would not say no, even if it would tear him up inside to leave his Threes behind. Being Dean, the minute he learned there may be a child in danger, he would jump in head first and not even blink.

xx

_Ellen hadn’t been too pleased with the suggestion initially, but Sam had assured her that Dean could still kick his ass if he really tried, and that he’d be training with their father long before Sam was even toddling away from their mother’s knee._

_“He teaches third grade,” Ellen remarked with no little amount of disbelief in her tone._

_“Yeah, because he loves it. He took martial arts and still boxes and he actually has a ridiculously accurate shot. It’s almost scary,” Sam assured. “I honestly think the only person who could beat Dean in a fight if it came down to it is Cas, or a Navy Seal…”_

_Cas shrugged, “I hate to admit it, but he also has a professional streak that would put most of our agents to shame. I’ve actually been a **bad** influence on his work ethic.”_

_Both Ellen’s eyebrows shot to her hairline at that one, “You?”_

_“Me,” Castiel nodded. Yes, they left out a few of Dean’s more noticeable quirks, but they were trying to win him points, not lose them. Besides, Sam and Cas both knew the elder Winchester brother well enough to be assured that the aforementioned quirks wouldn’t disrupt his performance in any way._

_The woman broke their gaze for a moment, staring off into the distance as she weighed her options, before turning and nodding, “Fine, but he has to go through all the examinations and basic training that any other agent is required to do, if he agrees. You hear? We don’t have time for the usual twenty week horse and pony show, but if he’s as good as you say then it doesn’t sound like he needs it. He smart?”_

_“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “IQ was around 138 when he took the test. Not that he knows that because he refused to check his score.”_

_Ellen whistled, “Almost as good as you two. So why isn’t he my agent?”_

_Castiel frowned, “He likes teaching too much.” **And there’s no way in Hell I’m letting him.**_

_Ellen narrowed her eyes, “Not one of them only book smart folks, is he? Damn squints come in here and mess up my operation.”_

_“Not at all,” Sam was quick to dispute. “He actually comes across as the complete opposite, but you set him to work and the real him shines through. He’s a little rough, also has a bit of a self-deprecating attitude because of how tough school was for him before he got to college, but I promise you, Agent Harvelle, he will not disappoint.”_

_“So you have yourself a near-genius, street smart, combat trained civilian older brother who had a tough time in school and teaches third grade? He’s a bit of a walking conundrum isn’t he?” Ellen’s eyebrow remained firmly quirked as she commented._

_Castiel chuckled, “A bit, yes. He also has the purest soul and the biggest heart I’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering, if that’s worth anything. As much as I don’t want him mixed up with what we do, I know he’s the best one for the job, even if I’ll hate every minute of it.”_

_Ellen sighed, “Fine. Ask your boy if he’s interested. I’ll start the paperwork. You have no idea how many hoops I’m going to have to jump through for this one.”_

_“You won’t be disappointed. You have my word,” Castiel replied._

_“Holding you to it Agent L’Ange,” Ellen said firmly, in a tone that meant every syllable of the phrase. Castiel swallowed nervously and nodded; Sam gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze._

xx

Finally, feeling the weight of Castiel’s gaze on him, Dean cracked open sleepy eyes and smiled. 

Cas smiled back, “I was just wondering the best way to carry you to bed.”

“Ha, ha. Work go okay?” Dean rolled into a sitting position, placing the novel he had been reading earlier gently aside.

“Yes. Let’s go to sleep. I’ll talk to you more about it in the morning,” Cas nodded, offering the younger man a hand up, and not releasing it until they reached their bedroom and Cas could wrap more than just his fingers around Dean. Dean raised a questioning brow at Castiel’s sudden inclination to snuggle, but just settled back into the warmth of his arms, not about to argue.

xx

The next morning Castiel woke to an empty bed and Dean long gone. His morning yard duty had Dean at the school earlier than most of the other teachers since he preferred to do any additional preparations the morning before classes began for the day. This usually had Dean up and out of the house by quarter to seven. Castiel cursed himself for sleeping in; he had fully intended to wake with the birds, along with Dean, and discuss the meeting from the previous night. Ellen wanted Dean at Head Quarters this afternoon to start the plan in motion.

Cas scrambled for his phone on the bedside table and breathed a sigh of relief – it was only 7:30. Dean didn’t have to be out and on the yard for another 45 minutes; Castiel dialled the school’s number and waited.

xx

Dean was on the carpeted floor, writing out the charts for the vocabulary lesson later that afternoon when a knock had him looking up and towards the door. It was Ava the receptionist. She must have just got here. She still had her jacket on and her lunch bag over her shoulder.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hiya, there’s a guy on the phone for you. Not sure if it’s your brother or Castiel. He sounds a little wrung out,” Ava shrugged.

Dean’s stomach dropped and his heart picked up speed in the same moment; they never called him this early in the morning. He climbed to his feet, giving his knees a quick brush-off as he went over to the phone on the wall, pressing the flashing line button that indicated an on-hold call. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Dean. Nothing’s wrong. I just… My boss wants to see you this afternoon to discuss something with you… I meant to tell you this morning but I slept in. Will you be able to make it to the Federal Building around four this afternoon?” It was Castiel and he did sound a little strained, but rather than being reassured by the agent’s words, Dean’s anxiety only increased.

“Yeah, sure thing Cas. I can be there. You sure everything’s fine?” Dean asked.

“Yes. I’m sure. Have a good day, I’ll see you this afternoon,” Cas replied calmly.

“Yeah, you too. Later then,” Dean returned and hung up the phone. He stared at the black plastic contraption for a moment before turning his attention back to his chart paper, pushing concern temporarily aside so he could focus fully on his kids.

**End Chapter**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to Dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you!

Dean stared in silent shock after Agent Harvelle explained their dilemma and hopeful solution. Jesse Turner was an innocent eight year old kid who attended a quiet and elite private school just outside of the Greater Boston Area. It was sheltered, secluded, and even the FBI couldn’t get a line on exactly who everyone was that attended the school. They were the children of dignitaries, celebrities, diplomats and anyone else rich and elite that you could think of. 

Jesse Turner, however, was not the son of a diplomat by any stretch. He was the son of one of the wealthiest organized crime leaders on the Eastern Seaboard, the man that was known more commonly as Crowley, King of Hell. The other catch? Jesse’s mother was Lilith Turner, the daughter of the leader of Crowley’s main competition. They were the Capulets and Montagues of Modern America, and Crowley was Romeo to Lilith’s Juliet, without the dramatic death scene at the end. Just the big nasty split that left a poor lost kid in the centre of it all, the only link between two criminal families that were more at war than ever.

“Lilith’s people are convinced that Jesse’s in danger. She’s been receiving threats for weeks now that he may be kidnapped, or worse. Crowley apparently wants the little prodigal out of his rivals’ hands and he’d do anything to get him… So I’ve heard anyway,” Ruby gave an easy shrug. Something about the way she spoke niggled at Dean, and he wasn’t too fond of the come-hither eyes directed at Sam that Dean could see even through the two-way mirror of the interrogation room’s observation booth. 

“So in other words, if we keep the boy safe, Lilith will give us every scrap of information we need in order to get to Crowley,” Castiel said; he was leaning right against the glass just to the left of Dean, his body angled in Dean’s direction even though the window separated them. Sammy was sitting on the chair opposite Ruby who, in Dean’s opinion, was sitting far too casual and relaxed to be in an FBI interrogation.

“So you aren’t as dumb as you look,” Ruby said with acrid sweetness. “But, Lilith also thinks Jesse may know more than he’s letting on. He still gets to see daddy after all, even if it’s while he’s heavily guarded and in a public place. Get someone to protect and get close to Jesse, and he may have something to give in return.”

“He’s an eight-year-old child, you’re suggesting we use him? Take advantage of his trust?” Castiel commented, aghast, and Dean couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.

“Hey, I’m just a mouth piece here. What’ya think, Sam? You game?” Ruby lowered her gaze and stared up at Sam through her thickly made-up lashes. Where she got mascara and eyeliner in prison, Dean could only guess at.

“I have someone in mind. But here’s my question for you Ruby. What is it you want in return?” Sam asked.

“Assurance that none of this can bounce back on me, is all. If Lilith’s father found out about her playing both sides with this whole thing, I’ll tell you right now, it wouldn’t be Daddy’s Little Girl getting the blame, that’s for sure,” Ruby replied.

Sam looked at Cas for confirmation; Cas nodded back and Sam returned his gaze to the wide-mouthed brunette across the metal table. “Fine. Our candidate for this case has listened to the details. Once they agree, then the plan is in motion and it won’t come back on you. You have our word.”

“Oh, like the word of the Feebs is worth much… But you know? Whatevs, I’ll take what I can get,” Ruby shrugged, though it was a little comical with her wrists chained to the floor with heavy metal shackles.

Special Agent-in-Charge Ellen Harvelle turned off the speakers and broke down the plan for him properly. 

“She had alluded in the first interview - the one that you had the Cliffs Notes for earlier - that we would need someone to go undercover and play the part. This was just for confirmation, and to give you a chance to see it with your own eyes. I have some highly-educated agents at my disposal, but I don’t have any highly-educated agents with B.Eds attached to the ends of their names. The person who works this case has to play the part convincingly, or Crowley will get suspicious,” Ellen had told him earlier. “What do you think Winchester? You up for it?”

Dean still hadn’t been able to answer, and that was fifteen minutes ago, and the cause of Dean’s blank, mute stare.

There was a knock on the door that temporarily broke Dean’s reverie. The teacher looked over and saw Cas hovering in the doorway. He was holding two mugs of steaming coffee awkwardly and a thick official-looking folder in the hand he used to knock with. The absurdity of Cas knocking to get anywhere near Dean was finally what shook the younger man completely free from his trance.

Castiel set down the coffee first, then he put the folder in front of Dean, opening it with an easy flick. The last move the agent took was placing the silver pen Dean had bought him last year for their anniversary gently on the paper.

Dean blinked down at it, “Cas…”

“Dean, don’t ask me if I’m sure this is all right with me, because it isn’t all right with me in any way whatsoever. I tried so hard to keep you out of this aspect of my life, and now I am partly responsible for thrusting you in head first. So no, I’m not all right. However, despite my personal feelings, I know that you are the most qualified, and the best person for this task. I also know that the moment you heard a child was in danger, even though he’s the child of not one, but two dangerous criminals, your mind was already made up. I also know you’ve been feeling like you wanted to do more with your life for a very long time and make a difference in ways beyond teaching and guiding. I have never felt that what you do is any less important than what Sam and I do. I have never felt you needed to prove anything or make a statement or a grand gesture. I do know, however, that you feel this way, even if you have no cause to. So I know you want to sign those papers, and if I tell you not to because I’m afraid you’ll get hurt then you’re just going to resent me for it. So Dean, don’t think about what I want, or what Sam wants, or what your parents want. Think about what _you_ want; you do it so very rarely, Dean, and here is your chance.”

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and looked beseechingly into the blue eyes of the man across from him, “My kids Cas, how can I leave my kids?”

“It’s not forever Dean. The moment this wraps, you’re free to go back,” Castiel answered gently.

It was several long heartbeats before Dean picked up the pen. As he put it to paper, he didn’t falter and he didn’t blink. When he thought that he might actually save someone’s - or several people’s - lives, his palms and underarms didn’t prickle with sweat, and his breath remained steady even as he scrawled his name across the line in smooth black ink. Then he put the pen down very gently, pushed away from the table, and left the room without a second glance or thought. 

Castiel sighed as he stood. He picked up his pen, gently clicking it closed. He picked up the folder and pushed in both chairs, and then he just stood there, staring at the polished steel, trying to breathe around the lump in his chest and the acid burn in his stomach. 

xx

Things were difficult at home that night. Dean hardly spoke, just worked methodically on lesson plan, after lesson plan, after lesson plan, and unit overview, after unit overview, after unit overview. By the time he was done, his fingers cracked from the stiffness caused by constant typing, and the printer was humming busily. Dean had closed down his programs and his mouse hovered over the shutdown function but still he hadn’t moved from his desk. Instead, Dean spent the last several moments in silence and stared at the picture he used for his desktop background of Sam, Jess, Cas and himself. It was taken at the Winchesters’ Fourth of July Barbecue only a few months ago. Dean, liking the photo so much, put it on his desktop the same day that Mary Winchester had emailed him the pictures. 

In the picture, Jessica and Sam looked Hollywood perfect. Jessica was lovely in a white A-line summer dress, and Sam in a white button down and jeans, white teeth flashing from broad happy smiles. Dean’s smile was little more than a slight splitting of his lips, but his eyes were crinkled merrily, and he was wearing a grey t-shirt with an artfully silkscreened flag on it that Cas had bought him as a bit of a gag gift. And somehow, Cas fit right in that picture, dressed in a button down of his own in blue, and just quirking his lips at the camera, with Dean arm slung comfortably around Castiel’s shoulders. Cas only realized after he saw the picture how much he leaned into Dean, and how intimate they looked without even trying. Yes, Castiel liked that picture immensely. 

John had informed them that Mary wouldn’t stop showing ‘her kids’ around to anyone that would look. The thought that Mary considered Castiel her son was warming and humbling. The fact that Cas was welcomed into a family as warm and as loving as the Winchesters, especially when compared to his own, left Castiel in unabashed awe. 

Now, as Castiel caught of glimpse of the picture on Dean’s desktop, a pang of guilt shot through him, as he realized he was putting not just one son, but two, literally in the line of fire. 

“Fuck.” The low bitter curse escaped Castiel’s lips before he could check it, but he wasn’t at all startled when he heard the gentle roll of wheels against the floor and he felt arms on his shoulders turning him seconds after.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean asked. Castiel swore so severely so rarely (in common-place settings anyway; he had the dirtiest mouth you could imagine when in the more intimate setting of the bedroom) that it took only that to jolt Dean out of his pervasive trance-state that he’d been operating in for the better part of the last four hours.

“Your mother is going to hate me,” Castiel answered. Dean was understandably confused, and though at times it seemed as such, Dean did not, in fact, reside in Castiel’s head and had not been privy to the thoughts from earlier. 

Letting Sam go had been easier for the Winchesters. Sam had always been more independent from the family and more head-strong than Dean. Though of course John and Mary were worried about their younger son, it wasn’t that big of a shock when he announced he didn’t want to sit and rot behind a desk as a lawyer any longer, and that the FBI were looking for skilled agents at the moment. 

Dean? Dean had gone with the flow, as it were. He had always been a little more – if not subordinate – than malleable to his parents’ desires. Dean also adored teaching so he saw no need to step away from his chosen profession for something more exciting. Even if Dean had always felt that there was something more he could be doing, saving lives, helping people. He was content with his chosen lot in life for the most part. It irked him on occasion that Sam and Cas ran off to play hero (mostly because Dean wasn’t capable of being there to protect them) but it wasn’t all-consuming. 

Regardless though, when John and Mary found out that Dean was turning in his whiteboard and yard stick for a gun and handcuffs, they might be a little shaken; but Dean wasn’t turning in his whiteboard and yard stick entirely, so maybe they’d be okay. Though Castiel knew he wouldn’t go unscathed upon Dean’s inevitable confession. Cas was the reason Sam was in the FBI, and Cas was, therefore, ultimately the reason Dean was putting on his own standard-issue black suit and tie.

“Did you give away her pecan pie recipe or something? Cause Nan made her swear to not give that out to _anyone_ on pain of death,” Dean joked to cover up how muddled he was at that moment.

Cas shook his head, chuckled lowly and kissed Dean’s nose, because he was too cute sometimes, before answering. “No, you signing your life away to the boys in black. She was already angry enough at me for Sam. I can’t imagine how she’ll react to you doing it, considering how close you two are.”

It was true that Dean was a little closer to their mother than Sam was, but then again, the person Sam was closest to in their family was Dean, not either of their parents. Not that all the Winchesters didn’t love each other beyond reason at times, but Sam seemed to have imprinted on Dean at a fairly young age, and it was what it was. 

John had been working a lot when the children were growing up, so he may have loved his boys fiercely, but he wasn’t as close to them as Mary was. It wasn’t until Dean was a teenager that John and he got a little closer, and it only resulted in Sam getting further from John, because Dean belonged to Sam and he resented their father a little for taking his Dean away. It all worked out in the end however, and they found themselves a decent balance with significant others, the sibling, and the parent-child bond. But still to this day, Dean remained closer to Mary and Sam and Dean remained closest to one another. 

“Cas, the minute I tell Mom you tried to talk me out of it, she’ll probably make you a cake,” Dean reassured.

“I didn’t try too hard,” Cas said wryly.

“Because you knew it was pointless, because you know me so well. Stop worrying, I’m not even a real FBI guy anyway. I’m just a glorified babysitter who gets to carry a gun. No big deal,” Dean shrugged.

“Just as dangerous,” Castiel said fiercely.

Dean leaned down and pressed a searing kiss to the older man’s lips, “I have faith in you Cas, you’ll protect me.”

And what words of protest could Castiel raise to that? It wasn’t long until Dean found himself sprawled naked on the floor with his partner flush against his body, kissing any remaining thoughts away.

xx

Dean woke up with an odd sensation of one side of his body being almost to the point of sweaty warm, and the other feeling pretty well like he’d hung it out the window while driving through the Rockies in winter. He shivered and hissed as his naked skin brushed against the smooth hardwood of the floor, and thanked the gods of interior design that tile wasn’t as popular as it used to be.

Castiel groaned against Dean’s chest as the younger man shifted, then quieted and snuggled closer. Of course _he_ would be comfortable; the blue eyed man was mostly on top of Dean. Dean grumbled, though he had a smile on his lips as he flipped Cas unceremoniously over until his back hit the cool gloss on the floors.

Cas yowled and sat bolt upright, panting and looking wildly around. Dean snickered.

Then, giving the agent a gentle push, he said, “Damnit Cas, what’s with you and this floor kink thing? Way too fucking cold.”

“It was the closest flat surface,” Cas replied baldly, though there was an obnoxious little twinkle in his eye as he did.

Dean stretched out his leg with a grimace, “And my knee hurts like a bitch.”

“Well you didn’t have to be on your knees,” Castiel said casually as he fluidly rose to his feet and held out a hand to help Dean up. Dean grabbed it, but Castiel overcompensated a little with the weight difference, slight though it may be, and Dean teetered dangerously close to them crashing right back to the floor with Cas flat on his back this time.

With a gentle laugh at Castiel’s wide-eyed surprise, Dean scrambled forward and managed to correct their balance, pulling Cas back onto steady footing.

“Thought you liked me on my knees,” Dean answered lowly.

“I like you anyway I can have you, Dean Winchester, and if you keep looking at me like that, I may just as well try for a second round, and I am way too old to even think about that without pharmaceutical assistance.”

Dean snorted. “You’re thirty-six, Cas. And believe me, you in no way need any little blue pills.” 

Castiel patted Dean’s cheek in an almost condensing ‘you’re sweet’ manner, but Dean wasn’t offended. 

“I’m gonna tell Mom and Dad this weekend,” Dean blurted.

Cas turned around. “Okay.”

“Just a forewarning… Ah…they’re coming down for the thing at my school. For whatever reason, Sam told them about it. I think there are nefarious plans afoot, but I didn’t pry,” Dean explained.

Castiel couldn’t help the nervous tension in his voice when he said, “So it’ll be in person when you tell them.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah…”

“So I’m at great risk for serious Mary-Winchester-induced bodily harm.”

“Yes.”

Cas smiled tightly. “Great. Good night.” 

Dean watched as Castiel robot-walked to the bedroom, and sighed.

**End Chapter**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to Dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you!

Castiel fired off round after round from his Glock, and then gently set it on the table in front of him after thumbing on the safety. He hit the switch that would bring the target towards him. He pulled off the heavy-duty earmuffs and then pulled each yellow foam plug from his ears. When the target settled, Cas could see six perfect shots nestled right over the paper target’s ‘heart’, and two perfect shots in its ‘forehead.’ Castiel didn’t feel any better. 

He heard a knock on the second set of Plexiglas doors and saw it was Dr. Gabriel Tricks on the other side, their branch’s resident shrink.

“What’s going on there, Cassy?” Gabe grinned.

Castiel winced; he had known Gabriel for a long time. They had been friends in college. Gabriel - who had already been working with the FBI for several years - had been instrumental in helping Castiel get to where he was today, thanks to glowing recommendations. That, however, didn’t mean that Castiel had to like the stupid nickname Gabriel had pilfered from Castiel’s half-brother, Balthazar.

“Don’t call me that,” Castiel said.

“All righty Cas.” Gabriel’s grin turned just this side of wicked.

“Not that either,” Castiel retorted; only the Winchesters were allowed to use that nickname.

“God, Castiel is so stuffy though,” Gabriel whined.

“It’s my name.”

“Duh,” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Anywho… not here to talk about that. I wanna know what’s got a bee in your bonnet, not that I don’t already know. But humour me, jump on up here and tell Unca Gabe all about it.” Gabriel patted the window ledge next to him.

“You sound like a lecher when you say that,” Castiel said, but came over to Gabriel nonetheless. The blue-eyed man hopped up to sit on the wide ledge next to the psychiatrist.

“Using that word of the day calendar I got you?” Gabriel leaned up against the window, pillowing his head in his raised arms.

“No, I read,” Castiel replied. Gabriel made a face in response and the silence stretched on for a while between them.

“So…” Gabriel finally started.

“So what?” Castiel flatly returned.

“Are you gonna tell me how signing your boy-toy up for this gig has your little heart in ribbons and your stomach trying to eat its way out of your body with guilt? Or are we just going to sit here and shoot the breeze like all is right in the world of Special Agent L’Ange?”

“We never just sit and ‘shoot the breeze’ Gabriel. You tell me what I’m never going to say. I deny that is how I’m feeling. You retort that you know me better than I know myself, you ‘fix’ me. We go home, then do it all again during the next afterschool special. So can we just skip to the go home part and replace it with grabbing a drink?” 

Gabriel sighed, “Fine. But only because I’ve been trying to drag you into the down and dirty life of alcoholism for years and this is a damn good way to start.”

“Your wit is endless and my amusement is eternal,” Castiel said sardonically, and slid off the ledge.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Gabriel said airily, “you’d marry me if your ass wasn’t already spoken for by that sweet young thing of yours. Damn that boy’s mouth, Cassy. How come you always get the pretty ones and I’m stuck with your brother?”

Castiel snorted, “Because you have a weakness for blue-eyed blonds with accents. Let’s go.” Castiel picked up his gun and tucked it away, placing his earmuffs in the container to be sanitized.

“You’re buying,” Gabriel said brightly.

“Like hell, my brother’s buying. He’s richer than God, he can afford it.”

“Good thing he gave me his Centurion Card then,” Gabe grinned, flashing the black piece of titanium like the proverbial gold it was. Castiel gaped at him for a moment, before chuckling and shaking his head as they headed out of the building.

xx

_When Castiel had first met the then 20-year-old Balthazar Black, he hated him on sight. This smarmy, cocky, British **bastard** was the reason that his mother had cried herself to sleep for a year before succumbing to liver failure and passing away. Castiel had succeeded in ignoring Balthazar’s existence for the better part of two years, and then with a simple knock, he couldn’t anymore._

_Jimmy, always the charitable one, always the friendly and open one, welcomed a new little brother into the fold with open arms. Castiel always suspected that for Jimmy, not being the youngest any longer in their family was a relief; even if Jimmy was only five minutes younger than Castiel, he was still the youngest._

_It had been Michael who allowed him into their home originally. Michael tended to be a lot more forgiving than he was sometimes given credit for. It also didn’t help that he idolized their father to the point of discomfort. But, it was what it was. Michael was also basically in charge around their home ever since their mother had kicked their father out, and she had started her downward spiral._

_Michael was thirteen years older than Cas and Jimmy. Luce, their middle brother, was three years younger than Michael. Luce rejected Balthazar immediately and refused to speak to him. It had been no surprise; Luce always had a hard time dealing with new siblings. He outright hated Jimmy and Castiel for the first three years of their lives. He resented not being the baby brother any longer, and he resented that Castiel and Jimmy took up most of their mother’s time. Luce had always been a favourite with their parents, and to have his world pulled out from under him with the surprise twins was, well… a surprise. Castiel and Jimmy had, quite frankly, been an accident, and if Balthazar was anything to go by, their father had a habit of having accidents._

_Despite all his flare and flamboyance, Balthazar was rather shy when he met his brothers for the first time. His own mother had died, leaving him the single heir of a vast wealth, and free to do whatever he pleased with it. He had no other family back in England but had always hated to be alone. So he had called a lawyer, had her find the long-lost brothers and father, and was at their doorstep within a week._

_“Hello. I don’t know if you know who I am, my name’s Balthazar Black I’m y—”_

_“Brother,” Michael finished, somewhat in awe. The boy before them was a near spitting image of their father at that age, if pictures were anything to go by. The only other brother in the household who could boast that honour was Luce. Castiel and Jimmy were identical and looked the most like their half-Russian mother right down to thick dark hair, and brilliant blue eyes. Michael hovered with a happy medium between both his parents; his eyes were also blue, but lighter, more like the summer sky than the blue sapphire of dusk, but his hair was somewhat of a mid-hued reddish-brown. Luce and Balthazar were both bright blond, with just the barest discernible amount of mischievousness in those sky blue eyes._

_Balthazar was only two years younger than Castiel and Jimmy. Their father had succeeded in keeping his love-child a secret, until, on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, Balthazar had called them out of the blue and their happy little life of ignorant bliss was blown to shreds. Castiel joined the military the next day._

_Needless to say, Castiel and Balthazar were like night and day. It was a surprise to all of them when they ended up being the closest amongst the brothers. Balthazar idolized Cas, looked up to him with scarcely-guarded near-reverence, and teased him mercilessly while doing it. Castiel felt his little brother’s behaviour towards him puzzling, but indulged it with mild fondness. Despite his initial reaction to the entrance of the boy into their lives, there was just something about him that won you over. The only exception was Luce, who never really warmed up to Balthazar, but Luce never really warmed up to anyone._

_While Castiel was on leave for a few days, he had returned home to visit his brothers and had run across his friend Gabriel from college at the train station. He and Gabriel talked as if no time had passed and Castiel ended up inviting Gabriel home to have dinner with his family that night. When the slight brunette man met the young blond they were both lost and, from that point on, basically welded together._

xx

“What’s the point of having Balth’s credit card if we use it at his bar?” Castiel asked as he pulled up in front of the chic lounge his brother owned.

Gabriel had the grace to blush. “Well… he doesn’t _know_ I have his credit card.”

Castiel gave him a blank look. “You stole it?”

“Borrowed it,” Gabriel huffed. “ _Le Porte_ was having a sale.”

“And where is _Le Porte_?” Castiel asked.

Gabriel grinned, “Paris.” Castiel just rolled his eyes as he climbed out of his black Suburban; Gabriel scrambled down from the other side. 

It was still fairly early in the evening, but there was already a line of hot young socialites and desperate looking young wannabes waiting in line behind the violet velvet rope.

“Hey Bruno,” Gabriel grinned at the bouncer.

“Gabe, good to see you, and if it isn’t the boss’s brother, the Fed… What brings you down off your high horse, Sir?” Bruno grinned, the look softening his meaty face. Castiel was not a small man, but his brother’s head bouncer towered over him and had the breadth akin to a prized bull. If Castiel wasn’t armed and expertly trained, he would have been intimidated, even if he knew deep down that the man was a sweetheart who would not shut up about his two cats if you let him get started.

“Free booze,” Castiel responded honestly.

Bruno chuckled. “Don’t let me stop you then.” He moved aside and Castiel and Gabriel strolled through, looking completely out of place in their rumpled suits. Many of the eagerly-waiting patrons-to-be grumbled and jeered not so quietly, but were quelled instantly upon receiving one of Bruno’s glares.

Once inside and through the initial hallway where they received their glowing wrist bands and hand stamps, Gabriel and Castiel weaved their way through the throngs. Gabriel clutched at Castiel’s sleeve, dragging him along. Gabriel’s slighter form managed to weasel around the writhing bodies with ease. 

Castiel let out a breath as they finally managed to get to the back of the room, where a door marked ‘Private’ led to a sound-proofed hallway with offices and the employee lounge beyond. Gabriel left Castiel at the door of Balthazar’s office, then wandered down the hallway to the back entrance of the VIP suite, where they’d be spending most of their night.

Castiel didn’t bother knocking when he pushed the door open. Balthazar looked up, an angry exclamation hovering on his lips, before he grinned and gave a small wave. He was sitting with his feet up on his desk, a sleek headset attached to the ear, trying to arrange something with the disembodied tinny voice on the other end. Cas went over to an artsy print that was hanging on the wall and gently moved it aside. Sitting behind was a high-tech safe complete with both keypad and thumb print access. Castiel wandered back over to his brother and unceremoniously pulled him out of his seat.

“Ricky… I told you, I’m not paying more than a quarter of a mil for that, so you can stop being ridiculous and just tell me when the bloody thing will be at my back stoop and waiting. Yes, I understand that Jay-Z was willing to give you a half but sweetheart, I’m not Jay-Z. We’re old mates you and I.” Balthazar had a smarmy grin in place as he talked. The younger man easily allowed Castiel to manhandle him and press his finger against the thumb-pad before Cas released the blond and punched in the combination for the safe himself. The door unlatched with a hiss and Castiel opened the small safe, setting his main Glock 22 in it, followed by the smaller Glock 17 that he kept in a holster attached to his ankle. 

“I don’t care what Mr. Beyoncé wants, he’s getting enough of attention now that he’s knocked her up... What? Now you’re bringing Sir Elton into this? He doesn’t even live in this country, what does he want with it anyway? Oh… well, that’s too much information. If you tell me that Brangelina wants it next, you and I are through and I’m taking my business el—” Castiel watched with raised eyebrow, still not used to all the name dropping his brother was doing.

“Fifteen? Oh Sweetheart, you’re a peach. Love and kisses, ciao!” Balthazar pressed a button on the side of his streamlined headset to hang up before hugging his brother tightly. “Cassy! What are you doing here?”

“Free booze,” Castiel said for the second time that night, returning the hug only somewhat awkwardly. “What was that all about?”

“Something boring,” Balthazar waved it off.

“What could possibly be boring for fifteen thousand dollars?” Castiel asked. The agent frowned, “It’s legal, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t tell you if it wasn’t,” Balthazar said airily. 

Castiel didn’t point out that Balth _hadn’t_ , in fact, told him anything. He decided that he really didn’t want to know, and let it slide. He didn’t want to have to arrest his little brother… again…

“Your husband dragged me here,” Castiel said. “I just wanted to go throw your money away elsewhere but then he told me you didn’t know that he had your credit card.”

“Which one?” Balthazar asked, patting down his pockets.

“Which husband?” Cas let a smirk curl his lips.

“You shouldn’t make jokes, Darling,” Balthazar said, “you aren’t funny.”

“The black one,” Castiel shrugged figuring that was enough.

“Again, which one?” 

Castiel blinked, richer than God? That was suddenly sounding like and understatement. “Ah… the metal one?”

“That little bitch,” Balthazar chuckled. “Where did he wander off to?”

“VIP lounge I imagine, but that was a few minutes ago. He may have made his way into the crowd by now.”

Balthazar pulled off his headset and tossed it unceremoniously on his desk, then immediately pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and answered a text, grinning, “I swear, I’m astounding.” 

Castiel wisely chose not to question this time. 

“Dean with you?” Balthazar asked as they made their way down the hall.

“No, his Halloween Carnival is tomorrow at the school, and his parents are flying in from Lawrence tonight. Gabe cornered me at the shooting range and demanded I share my feelings,” Castiel replied.

“And we all know how that goes,” Balthazar rolled his eyes.

“Hence our pursuit for gratuitous libation,” Castiel replied with a nod.

“You two, I swear, you only love me for my money,” Balthazar sighed.

“ _I_ only love your for your money. The fact that you sleep with Gabriel is probably why he’s been around so long, though you made him sign a prenup and he _does_ love the money,” Castiel replied. “Oh, speaking of money... I should ask you if you want to donate some for Dean’s kids. They’re fundraising for the various countries that have been hit with natural disasters over the last year or so.” 

“Oh, of course, I’ll write you a cheque. You know how much I like kids.” Balthazar paused before he smirked and said, “And Dean.” Castiel shot him a dark look. Balthazar chuckled again. 

They had reached the lounge, and after pushing through the curtain, they noticed Gabriel was conspicuously absent, which meant the small man was lost in the crowd below. Balthazar sighed and headed to the stairs, about to descend, when his phone rang.

Balthazar looked at the caller ID and grimaced, “I have to take this. When you find Gabe, bring him back up and we’ll all have a drink.”

Castiel nodded and waved his brother off. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and tie, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and unbuttoning to the second button so he didn’t feel as if he were being suffocated. He handed both discarded items to the silently waiting hostess and then un-tucked his shirt. It was, of course, wrinkled beyond imagining. A host came over almost immediately, a hand held steamer at the ready, and gave Castiel a thorough once-over with the item. Castiel thanked them both awkwardly and sucked in a breath to make his way through the crowd. 

Just as he was making his way along the artfully appointed bar, he spotted a familiar head of long brunette hair and almost turned and fled the establishment. But in his distraction to find Gabriel he wasn’t fast enough, and he was caught sight of in the same moment. It was Meg, his ex-girlfriend, and also one of his greatest regrets.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Castiel. You’re looking good, Baby,” she purred.

xx

_Castiel never would understand what drew him to this woman. Though he confidently played both sides of the field, he had always been drawn more towards men with lighter hair and eyes. Meg was a woman, and very much a woman at that. She was all soft curves and lithe movement. Dark eyes, dark hair and lush full lips. Her eyes smouldered a little wickedly as she looked at you, she moved a little predatorily when she stalked towards you, and would speak in a lilting tone when addressing you. Maybe it was because of the fact that she **was** so new and different that Castiel found himself drawn to her. _

_Meg wasn’t a large woman, and sometimes Castiel would feel like he would shatter her petite form. He was more used to harder, toned bodies, but she had power in her and gave as good as she got._

_Their brief relationship should not have even begun in the first place. She was an informant from Lilith’s ring, one of her girls. Meg was a high-class courtesan who was more for companionship than sex, but sex did come into it occasionally. She also could do things with her tongue that made the even embarrassingly experienced Castiel’s head spin at times._

_Castiel was a professional; he should never have crossed the line that he crossed, but he was becoming a little disillusioned in those days. He never felt like he was getting anywhere, and Meg was a wonderful way to release his frustrations. Their passion filled, firework quick, relationship had been mostly about the sex, it was true, but Castiel did like her as a person. He found her interesting and intriguing, even if she was a horrible influence on him._

_One evening, Meg was leading him to meet a contact, in an abandoned prison of all things. They had been ambushed. Castiel had little trouble putting their attackers down and when he was done, Meg grabbed him and kissed him. A moment later he was shoving her against a wall and hiking her skirt up over her hips. After that brief interlude, the meeting went off without a hitch._

_As their relationship wore on, Castiel found their impromptu sessions happening again and again, almost every time they went out somewhere. He would take Meg in the most inappropriate places. Then, one day she betrayed him, and it all came tumbling down as quickly as it started. Castiel never stopped hating her for it, and it also made him a little sad. She was the last woman he allowed himself to be with._

xx

“Meg,” Castiel said deceptively calm. _Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean_ , was being chanted in his head all the while, using it as an anchor to prevent him from doing something foolish like slapping that smug look off her face. It didn’t help that she looked good as well. _Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean_. 

“What brings you here?” She sidled up to him, standing as close as she could without touching him. Her slightly too-sweet perfume and hairspray tingled his nose.

He took a step back, but found himself pressed against the bar top.

“What’sa matter, Baby, not happy to see me?” Meg lowered her lashes and blinked up at him, pulling her darkly painted lips into a soft ‘o.’

“Not particularly. You almost cost me my job,” Castiel gritted, wanting to escape. Wanting to escape her, and wanting to escape the way the heat of her body against his was stirring something that made him feel ill at the same time his body reacted in a much more interesting way. It was not a comfortable feeling. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” she came closer, pressing the soft swell of her breasts against his chest, feather light, “all’s fair in love and war.”

That’s all it took for Castiel to raise his arms and gently move her away from him. Castiel managed to give himself enough room to get out from between her and the bar and take two steps out into the crowd, leaving them more than an arm’s reach away. She pouted up at him and wanted to take another step forward, was in fact beginning to do just that, when a voice called out across the rumbling of the club.

“Cassy!”

Castiel was never so glad to see his friend and brother-in-law in his life, and visibly sagged at the relief in it all. 

“Gabe!” he beamed, throwing the slight man off-balance for a moment. He slung his arm over the smaller man’s shoulder and pulled him tight against his side. “I’ve been looking for you, Sweetheart.” Meg’s eyes widened then she frowned and looked at both men suspiciously before pasting a smile back on her face.

“Well, see you around, _Cassy_. So nice to run into you,” she melted off into the crowd.

“Ahh… first of all… Ew,” Gabriel extricated himself from Castiel’s side. “And second of all, what the hell?”

Castiel said nothing, just grabbed Gabriel’s half-full glass of amber liquid and downed it in one go. “Let’s go find Balth.”

“All righty then,” Gabriel remarked, slightly wide-eyed. It was Castiel’s turn to grab Gabe by the sleeve and lead him through the crowd. He was not venturing out solo again tonight. That was for sure.

Castiel’s plan failed miserably, and he would live to regret it. 

The shock of seeing Meg led him to have a little more than he intended, and he now found himself spectacularly tipsy, or perhaps just this side of drunk. As it was, he was trying to navigate his way through the writhing masses to the door for some fresh air and kept getting turned around. It wasn’t at all long before he found himself the complete opposite direction than he had intended to be in, and that’s when the shit hit the fan.

“There you are, I’ve been waiting to get you alone all night,” an all too familiar voice reached his ears. They were in a more secluded area of the club nearest the restrooms, but Meg still had to sidle up close to him to make herself heard over the throb of the music. Her cloying perfume mixed with her luring heat made his head spin a little… He just wanted some fresh air. Without warning, she came around towards his front and pressed the full length of her body against his, her supple breasts teasing through their thin shirts. He tried to resist, he really did, but it wasn’t at all long before she was up on her toes and pressing her lips against his. He didn’t react right away, alcohol saturated mind causing him to freeze, but then she moved her lips against his and that all-too-talented tongue came out and he snapped his eyes open.

“No, stop I have—”

“What?” she said with a pout.

“Someone, my… I have someone,” Castiel panted out. “You can’t.”

She pulled back only slightly, cruelly narrowing her eyes. “Oh? And which one of those ‘someones’ are you worried about hurting, Castiel? That pretty little green-eyed fuck toy you have, or the floppy-haired hobbit you were with earlier? What’s one more Castiel?” 

Castiel knew there was something off in that statement, but he couldn’t process it at the moment.

He just shook his head and said, “You have to go. Just st—” And then her lips were on his again, and it was familiar, and the rawness of what they had all came rushing back in that one booze-fogged moment, and he found himself spinning her around and shoving her none-too-gently against the smooth black of the wall. 

Then she moaned into his mouth and that sound was just wrong. It was too high, too breathy, and Castiel pulled away in an instant, his stomach turning to acid. He ran and fled to the washroom, locking the multi-stalled room behind him and leaning over the sink, panting heavily. He splashed water on his face, as cold as he could get it, then just stood there, winded and huffing, leaning bodily on the sink for more minutes than he realized. A knock and a loud angry voice jolted him back to the present, and Castiel rushed over to the door, unlocking it. 

“Whaz yer pro’lem, Bro? Jeeeeez-uuhss,” the man brushed violently passed Castiel. “I gotsta piss like a fuh’gin rassshors.” 

Castiel stood there a moment longer before taking a deep breath and making his way back up to the VIP lounge to his waiting brothers. He was on edge the entire way across the crowd, eyes tracking around for any very unwanted sightings of Meg.

When he made it to the relative safety of the stairs, he let himself relax a little as he climbed them. The moment he reached his family, he would get his things and have Balthazar call him a car. He needed to go home. Once he made it to the landing he almost lost his footing.

“Hiya Cas, a little Balthie told me you’d be needing a ride home tonight.” 

Dean. 

Dean was there, reclined casually in the plush seating of the VIP lounge, dressed deliciously in the dark jeans with the rip just above his knee, and his white button-down and black blazer. He was perfect and beautiful, and Castiel’s stomach turned to lead at the same time it revolted against his ribcage, and he almost choked on his own breath. Guilt washed over him like the high, rough tide of a storm.

“Did you want to stay a bit more or were you ready now?” Dean continued, his hand midway between reaching for the pricy imported sparkling water the hostess was handing him, waiting for an answer. Castiel didn’t think, he just grabbed the nearest drink (which happened to be Gabriel’s again, much to the small man’s protests) and took a long swallow.

“Okay then, one drink it is,” Dean reached up and smiled winningly at the hostess, white teeth flashing in the low lighting. Castiel let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and missed Gabriel’s suspicious look entirely.

xx

Castiel entered their apartment later that night, leaning heavily against Dean and feeling like shit wrapped in a used newspaper from a fish market, sprinkled with asbestos.

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” he murmured against Dean’s warm, familiar shoulder, Dean’s spicy rich scent greeting him and comforting him.

Dean laughed, “Hey Man, no worries. You know I never fault you for relaxing a little. You do it so rarely, it’s not a big deal. Mom and Dad are at Sammy’s and Jess’s so you don’t have to worry about them seeing my lush of a boyfriend, if that’s what has you all concerned, and you’ll have plenty of time to shake the hangover before the Carnival tomorrow night. I make the best hangover cures, one thing that I learned and will always cherish from my MIT days.”

Dean thought he was apologizing for being a drunken asshole. _I have to make him understand!_

“Dean no, I’m sorry I—”

Dean turned and smiled gently at him, interrupting, “Babe, relax. Any time you get the stick out of your ass it’s a good thing. You’ve had way too much stress lately. Besides, you were with Gabe and Balth, it’s not like you could have gotten yourself in any trouble.” Dean chuckled.

Cas sobbed, “No Dean I—”

“Cas,” Dean more firmly now, “seriously, enough. Let’s get to bed, all right? You gotta drink a bottle of water for me though first, okay?”

Castiel could only nod. “Yes, Dean. Anything.”

Dean gave him a funny look. “Dude you are so beyond hammered it’s actually a little sad. You must have seriously been going at it—“

“What?! No!” Castiel said panicked. There was no ‘seriously going at it’ with Meg, it was one kiss! Cas stopped the kiss. He did, he really did. It wasn’t Dean; it was wrong.

Dean chuckled again, “Come on Cas, give it up. Your tolerance is through the roof and you were bumming off Balth the entire night. It’s cool, no worries. Remember that time you had to clean me up after Sammy’s graduation party for Law School? Man, that was something dark, right there. So this? Nothing.”

“Dean…” Cas tried one more time, more desperately now.

“Come on Babe. Water, then sleep. You can tell me all about it tomorrow,” Dean’s smile was indulgent as he sat Cas at the kitchen table and fished a bottle of water from the fridge. He cracked the lid and put it down in front of the agent. 

Castiel didn’t reach out, he just stared at it, slumped in his chair, feeling like the worst thing to ever belly-crawl along the earth.

“Don’t make me force it in. Drink up,” Dean urged. 

Castiel finally reached out and drank. The water that would normally have been cool and refreshing went down like ashes. Castiel choked as he swallowed. 

**End Chapter**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to Dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you!

  


Castiel awoke the next morning groaning as he squinted into the light, not even remembering how much he had to drink the night before. He didn’t actually remember much of the night before, after he used Gabriel to rescue him from Meg. Castiel shuddered at the thought of his ex; a strange choking sensation of unease settled in his gut. 

Unmindful of his head, or his rolling stomach, or the chalky sandpaper feel of his tongue, he tossed the sheets aside and padded quickly to the kitchen. Almost running, but not quite. He let the unease release a little at seeing the familiar form of Dean rocking and wiggling his hips slightly as he sang Zeppelin under his breath. Castiel couldn’t hear well enough to pinpoint which song it was, but he knew Dean well enough to pick up on the artist.

Feeling a sudden urge for closeness, Castiel shuffled forward and snaked his arms around Dean’s waist, burying his face in the comfortable valley between Dean’s shoulder blades with a squeeze, probably a little tighter than he normally would have.

Dean chuckled, low, and Castiel felt it rumble pleasantly and vibrate through his entire body. The younger man turned his head to peer awkwardly over his shoulder before gently saying, “Hey, what’s this for? You okay?”

“Head hurts,” Castiel mumbled with a pout in his voice, unable to come up with a better reason. “Feel sick.”

Dean chuckled again and turned in the embrace, cradling Castiel’s head against his shoulder, “Poor you. I’m making bacon, eggs and hash browns… Uh! I See the look, none of that. A greasy, starchy breakfast is the best cure for a hangover. Take it from someone who was a borderline alkie in his undergrad days. I know.” 

Castiel only nodded in response and shut his eyes; he had no desire to move right at that moment, and was just enjoying the feel of Dean wrapped around him so completely. He really wanted to know what this nagging feeling was in his stomach, but couldn’t for the life of him figure it out.

Castiel pulled back, becoming suddenly suspicious. “Hey, nothing happened last night did it? We’re okay, right?”

Dean snorted, “Dude, black out? Really? Nope, nadda. I showed up just after you wandered off to hit the head - according to Gabriel - and before that, you were with them the entire night. Gabe said something about you running into an ex and it rattling you, but that’s about it.”

There was the lancing flash of shame again and Castiel frowned… Why would he feel guilty if he was just rattled by her? Castiel didn’t like it, and vowed to never drink again… Then he remembered they were meeting John, Mary, Sam and Jess for Dean’s Halloween Carnival and Cas suddenly wanted to reach for the nearest bottle of whisky. The good Canadian stuff they bought at the duty free on their last trip up. 

“Your mother is going to kill me,” Castiel muttered, finally taking a step back.

“You still on that? Is that what the sudden cuddle – not that I mind – is about? No worries, Babe. I’ll handle it, okay? Now sit. Grease and starch await.”

Castiel complied, though food was the last thing on his mind.

xx

Castiel was feeling marginally human by the time four o’clock rolled around and he had to take up his place as Haunted House Monitor. He would never admit that the damn things frightened him a little, but was not about to tell that to Missouri so she could assign him elsewhere. Missouri had been pretty insistent that she needed Castiel’s help, and that woman was wonderfully terrifying.

The doorbell rang, and Dean jogged excitedly over to answer, bouncing like a child. Castiel watched with a soft, fond smile, and put his novel aside, standing up and stretching to meet their guests.

It was hugs and squeals all around as the Winchesters (and Winchester-to-be, if Sam ever took Dean’s advice and got off his lazy ass… Dean’s words) tumbled into the room. There was the customary brother hug that had Sam wrapping his massive arms around Dean’s shoulders as if they hadn’t just seen each other the night before, and then Dean went to petite Jess and picked her up in a big bear hug. The pretty blonde giggled, then dropped a kiss on Dean’s cheek before scooting aside to allow Dean to greet John and Mary. Mary received a similar treatment to Jess and Dean and John partook in that awkward handshake, half-hug that Castiel always failed to understand. Then it was Castiel’s turn as the two women came towards him, arms spread, Sam’s bright grin and John’s firm handshake. After the enthusiastic greetings, Castiel always found himself slightly befuddled for a few moments, before he managed to regain his composure with the soft pressure of Dean’s hand on his lower back.

Castiel’s own family had never really been physically affectionate; the only brother who ever really hugged Castiel was Balthazar. Castiel and Jimmy even stopped giving one another hugs when they were children and didn’t share the same bed any longer. For the first seven years of their life, Jimmy would crawl into Castiel’s bed in the middle of the night, and then one day, it just stopped. They began gradually drifting apart after that, Jimmy becoming more involved in the Church, and Castiel becoming more involved in his crime novels and war dramas.

“All right, so I insisted that Mom and Dad come down for the carnival and that we all stop here before heading out, because Jess and I have something to tell you,” Sam burst out. He had been positively brimming with nervous energy for the last several days, and Castiel realized it was time for the big reveal. Dean vibrated excitedly behind him. It was a pretty safe assumption to make, considering how close they all were, that Dean had already figured out the announcement. Castiel had his own suspicions. So did the elder Winchesters if Mary’s eagerly clasped hands and John’s slow smile were anything to go by.

Sam took Jess’s hand in his own and all suspicions were confirmed when the tallest Winchester spoke, “I asked Jess to marry me, and being the foolish girl that she is, she said yes.” Sam’s grin was cheek splitting and Dean had an answering one firmly in place. 

Dean tackled his brother then, the younger man catching him with a laugh before Dean pulled Jess into a tight group hug.

“I knew you’d smarten up eventually, Sam!” Dean crowed. “I’ve been telling him to pop the question for _years_ Jess. _Years_. From the moment I met you, I knew you were way too good for him and he’d lose you if he didn’t. You have got to be the most patient girl in the world.”

Jess laughed, “I _almost_ gave up on him!”

“Well, Dean…” Sam began with a sneaky smile, “You know _I’ve_ be—” Whatever Sam was about to say was quickly cut off by Dean leaping up once again and pulling his big-little-brother’s head down to messily ruffle his hair.

“You’re such a jerk,” Sam said, wrestling his brother away and laughing all the while.

“Bitch,” Dean grinned back. 

There was another round of hugs and congratulations, and Castiel watched it all with a fond smile. When Jessica was finally free, Castiel put a gentle hand on her shoulder and pulled her away from the group.

“Best wishes Jessica. You do wonders for Sam, and I wish you many long years of happiness,” Castiel said gently.

“Jeeze Cas, you don’t have to be so formal all the time,” she slung her arm around him. “Thank you though. He makes me happier than I ever thought I could be.”

Castiel chuckled, “Yes, I rather know the feeling. Something about those Winchester men, isn’t there?”

“Oh yeah, and it has nothing to do with those cheek bones, green eyes and dimples,” Jess winked.

Castiel laughed at that. “No, nothing at all.”

“So…” Jessica said in a sneaky tone Cas was pretty sure she picked up from Sam, “you thought anymore about what we talked about last time? You should take advantage of it, Cas, you brother’s done it.”

Castiel shifted, “I know but… Dean’s… Dean. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable. You know how he gets sometimes. What we have is wonderful as it is, there’s no _real_ need to label anything.”

“Yeah but think of the legalities Cas, especially in your lin—” 

“I know,” Cas cut in gruffer than he meant to. “I apologize,” he said just as quickly. Jess smiled it away. 

“Besides,” continued Castiel, “it took Sam nearly ten years to ask you! I’ve only been with Dean for three.”

Jess shrugged it off. “Different situation though. Sam took this long to be content enough with where he was in life to bring someone else in so permanently. I knew it was coming eventually, almost from the moment we met. But there was his schooling, and then his dissatisfaction with the firm. Now he’s happy and he’s ready, and there you have it. Dean’s been settled in what he’s doing for five years, he’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and Sam tells me he’s the happiest he’s ever been. You’re obviously settled in your life, and you’ve always been the guy to take what he wants Castiel… Just think about it.” She patted Castiel’s back, then returned to Sam. Her fiancé leaned down as she whispered in his ear, and his eyes flicked over with a grin before he turned his attention back to her soft grey eyes. 

Castiel had to smile at the picture they made. 

“Hey,” Dean whispered soft by his ear.

“Hello,” Castiel returned.

“This is so great, huh? God I’m happy for the kid. She’s the best girl he’s ever dated, ever. Hands down. Not that he had many before her, but still. She’s something. I know Mom’s thrilled, and Dad’s not showing it, but he’s eager to have the grandkids. I think he’s long passed the point of wanting to join in the bragging fests with the geezers at work.”

Castiel’s eyes twinkled a little. “Is that so? I think he may be able to join in sooner than we’ve all expected.”

Dean gaped at him. “Dude… Serious?”

“I have five nieces and nephews Dean. I know the look,” Cas nodded at Jessica. “That’s the look.”

“Awesome,” Dean grinned. “I’m gonna be the best uncle ever.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Castiel chuckled. He took Dean’s hand and led them over to the rest of the family. It was almost time to go.

xx

The Haunted House was more comical than frightening, but he was pretty sure the children would find it scary. Castiel, for one, was pleased that it was toned down to be kid-friendly, because he didn’t want to let on that Mister FBI Winchester was frightened of a few fake ghosts. He never really understood why the children called him Mister FBI Winchester when he came around. He supposed there could be worse things than being bestowed that last name… Much, much worse. 

He watched the kids filter in and out, ready to calm them if they became too frightened, or to send a stern look towards any boys who decided that rough housing and teasing was the thing to do. Many came through with their parents, so Castiel didn’t really have much to concern himself with. He just spent the majority of it studiously avoiding looking at the large rubber boa constrictor than would flash now and again in the fake lightning. Castiel never liked snakes. 

The time he wasn’t spending doing that, he would take in the gleeful faces of the children. See them laugh and run and admire each other’s costumes. Some were remarkably creative. 

He smiled a little sadly. Castiel always felt a deep pang of sadness at the thought of having children. Part of his sadness was also for Dean. Dean had always loved children, hence his profession, and Castiel thought the green-eyed teacher would make a fantastic father. 

Castiel had just turned his back on the window displaying the snake when he felt something reach out and grab him. Castiel startled forward, eyes widening and heart racing, hand reaching for his concealed sidearm. He relaxed almost immediately when he heard a warm, familiar chuckle.

Castiel turned with a glare, “Dean.”

“Sorry, Cas, I should have waited for a better time to do that, yeah?” Dean’s sparkling eyes didn’t really give much weight to the apology. Seeing Dean’s gentle amusement, Castiel was beyond pleased that he had managed to keep the frightened and embarrassing squeak lodged firmly in his throat. He wouldn’t have heard the end of it from Dean if the demeaning noise had managed to escape. 

“Yes, well, I was thinking we could fly out to see my brother next time. You know, on a _plane_. What do you think Dean?” Castiel said, just a little nastily.

“Dude, not cool,” Dean shuddered.

“I cannot believe you put a snake in here.” Castiel glared over at the offending rubber.

Dean grinned wickedly. “It’s all right, Sam’s over by the face painting booth… And guess what’s doing the face painting…”

“Clowns?” Castiel quirked a brow.

“Yep!”

Castiel shook his head. “You are a horrible human being, Dean Winchester.”

“You love me anyway,” Dean laughed. “I just came by to say you’re relieved. All that’s left is the costume parade, and then the ribbon ceremony. Shop’s closed.”

“I see, I was wondering why we’ve been alone for the last five minutes,” Cas remarked.

“Oh yeah, and we’ll be alone for a lot more than that.” Dean flashed Cas a suggestive glance, slowly strutting towards him, forcing Castiel to move back step-by-step until he was flush against the glass with the fake reptile. Castiel sidled away from it. Dean chuckled low and Castiel felt the sound shoot straight down his spine to pool warmly in his belly. 

“Dean,” Castiel breathed out. “I really don’t think this is the most approp—” His words were cut off by a searing kiss and Castiel felt his eyes flutter closed, the wailing and flashing lights all falling away to dull background noise. 

Dean was never really like this; he spoke suggestively and would whisper wicked innuendo to Castiel at inappropriate times, but it was rare that he acted on it. Castiel and Sam hadn’t been lying when they told Ellen that Dean was extremely professional. But now, here in the fun house, steps away from Dean’s entire family, his boss, colleagues and place of work, Dean was pressed flush against Castiel’s body, the warm, wet heat of Dean’s mouth devouring Castiel’s. Hands sinking lower and lower down the black sweater Castiel wore, tickling and playing at the agent’s side before coming to rest at the loose waistband of Castiel’s jeans. 

Castiel had discovered with Meg that the risk of being caught was a surprising turn-on, but it had been a very long time since the former soldier explored that aspect of himself, and now that it was with Dean, whom Castiel had always had always been exceedingly aroused by, Castiel found himself reacting a lot faster and a lot harder than before. 

Dean chuckled against Castiel’s lips, feeling the evidence for himself in their position. He pulled back far enough to whisper, “Bit of a naughty little thing, aren’t you Cas?”

“Jesus, Dean,” Castiel whispered as Dean twisted his hips a little and sent Castiel’s eyelashes fluttering and lips falling open in a gasp.

“Do you like that Cas? Thinking anyone could walk in at any minute? See you here with me. Me having you pressed nice and tight against that wall, hands all over, in all those places you love my hands to be,” Dean muttered.

“Fuck,” Castiel panted out, scrambling for purchase at Dean’s arms, shirt, shoulders anything he could reach. Fingers curling in the shot cropped hair at Dean’s nape, hips shifting and rutting of their own accord, lips—

“Dean?” 

“Shit!” Dean laughed, scrambling away. 

Castiel choked and blinked, prying himself off the wall and hoping his flush and other things weren’t as obvious as Castiel feared, when Sam made his way around the corner. 

Dean and Castiel couldn’t help the nervous laughter that bubbled out. Dean with a hand splayed over his red face, and Castiel trying to school his features in the semblance of his usual calm mask while simultaneously attempting to completely ignore the throbbing in his jeans as he did so. Thank _God_ , it was only Sam. 

“Ah… you guys okay?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“Yep,” Dean answered, a little shaky.

“Kay…” Sam didn’t look convinced. “Andrea’s looking for you, the costume parade is about to start.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Dean still hadn’t moved, because Castiel was using him as cover. Sam gave them both a strange look again before shaking his head and leaving. Both men collapsed into laughter as soon as they heard the younger man’s footsteps fade.

xx

It turned out that one of Andrea’s second graders won. She went up on the stage with the little girl, Bailey, and had the quiet, prideful glow that was habitual in teachers when their students accomplished something. It was just as much her victory as Bailey’s, and Andrea handed Bailey the blue ribbon with a wide grin.

It was no secret that there was always friendly competition among classrooms, mostly in an effort to instil responsible behaviour and community outlook in their students. Sometimes they had friendly competitions on which classroom managed to bring in the most toys for the Christmas Tots Foundation. Sometimes during Sustainability Awareness month, it was which class managed to come up with the most creative alternative use for recycled items, among many others. Usually the class would win a small memento, a pizza party, and their photograph on the Hall of Fame billboard for that month. This time, it had just been for fun, and Dean lost the bet and owed Andrea dinner. He was sure one of Chuck’s fifth graders would win this year because they had the last two years in a row. Andrea swore up and down that one of her kids would win. 

“You owe me, Cowboy,” Andrea winked as she came up to him after the kids had scattered to their homes and beds. Dean paused in his work of stabbing trash and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Well Matty owes _me_ dinner, he was sure anyone but you would win, and I told him if it wasn’t Chuck it _would_ be you.” Dean chuckled, “Not sure how Cas will take me going on two dates that don’t involve him, but we’ll see.” Dean winked, and even after all these years and all their history, Andrea never failed to blush at that.

“If it’s a date, does that mean we can’t go to the Roadhouse like I planned?” Matt was grinning when he said it as he approached. He was straight as an arrow but he played along with Dean when he could.

“Hell no, Man. The Roadhouse is the shit, best damn wings this side of the Hudson,” Dean smiled.

“At least I don’t have to dress up, then,” Matt laughed.

“I’ll still look pretty for you, no worries,” Dean winked again. It did not have the same effect on Matt as it did on Andrea.

“You’re taking me to the Roadhouse too, then; that way I don’t have to dress up,” Andrea jumped in.

“Good enough for me, Sweetheart, I’m a cheap date,” Dean grinned.

“Yes, and also a bit licentious if I recall,” Castiel’s cool, even drawl broke the banter. “Not that _we’ve_ been on a date in a while... So my frame of reference might be a bit dated.”

Dean had the grace to blush at that one.

“Hello, Castiel,” Andrea greeted, pleasantly enough.

“Andrea,” Castiel replied in kind. “Have you been well?”

“Sure have! You?” 

“Quite,” Castiel nodded.

“Awkward,” Dean mouthed at Matt, behind Castiel’s back. Matt snorted and covered it up with a cough.

“Hey, Castiel,” Matt jumped in with his easy, charming smile. “Good to see you again. Still have to have that music chat that I promised you. I have a few albums that you may not have heard. They’re newer, but they harken back to the old school.”

Castiel’s smile was easier now, genuine, it was hard not to be relaxed around Matt. “Yes, we do.”

“Well, you got my number. See you guys, Andrea. It was a great job tonight. The kids loved it!” Matt waved.

“Bye, Matty!” Dean said happily.

“See you, Matt,” Andrea beamed after a quick hug with the tall, dark haired man. She turned back to Dean and Castiel. 

“I have to be on my way, too. Why don’t you guys get on? We’ll all be back tomorrow for the big tear down so we can clean up then. Night guys, say ‘hi’ to Sam for me!” She bounded away over to Lucas, who sat a few feet away with his crayons and his toy soldiers. Dean watched her for a moment as she bundled the boy deeper into his coat and ushered him towards her car.

“So, they decide on a place for dinner yet?” Dean asked, turning back to the man at his side.

“Your father wants steak. Everyone is inclined to give him what he wants,” Castiel smiled.

“I image they are,” Dean chuckled.

xx

Mary had let the idle conversation go while they waited for their food, and then the first five minutes after it arrived. She may have been a patient woman, but sometimes, you just had to get to the point. Mary lightly put down her knife and fork, took a sip of her water, and coughed delicately. Her family stopped mid-sentence, and she found four sets of light eyes, and one set of dark trained on her in an instant.

“All right, Dean, what have you been desperately trying _not_ to tell me since we sat down?” Mary asked, straight to the point and quirking a delicate blonde brow.

Dean stole panicked glances at Sam and Cas. Sam made a point of looking anywhere but at anyone, and Castiel got very quiet and very still, staring blankly down at his plate.

“What? Have an illegitimate kid you just found about? Robbed a bank? Killed someone? Jeepers Dean, I know you, what’s going on?” Mary frowned at her eldest.

“Illegitimate kid?” Dean squeaked. 

Mary found that one sort of odd for Dean to stumble over, but let it slide for now. Castiel whipped his gaze over to the younger man, frowning, but shook it off. John was remaining pointedly silent at her side. When it came to Sam, John was always the first to help wheedle, but with Dean, he let Mary take the reins. 

“Come on, Angel, what’s going on?” Mary asked softly now. Dean flushed at the stupid nickname his mother had given him when he was a child, before clearing his throat.

“Okay, don’t freak out,” Dean began.

“Uh oh,” Mary muttered.

John narrowed his eyes, “Dean?” 

“Look Dad, Mom, relax. It wasn’t even Dean’s idea it was mine,” Sam jumped in.

“Ours,” Castiel said quietly.

“Oh,” was how Mary responded. Maybe this was more serious than she thought. But what on earth would cause her three boys to go on the defensive like this? And yes, she did consider poor Castiel one of her boys now, too. God knows his own parents never did much for him. Jess was fidgeting in her chair, not taking her eyes off of Sam.

“I’m gonna… Ah… I’m gonnadosomeundercoverstufffortheFBI,” Dean said in one long rush, and snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. He squinted one eye closed and peered at his mother with the other like he had when he was a little boy after having just drawn all over the walls of the upstairs hallway.

“Oh,” Mary said again, quieter now.

“I see,” John murmured. Sam, Dean and Jess blinked; Castiel cocked his head to the side. The four children waited for what they assumed would be the inevitable explosion.

Mary took a deep, shuddering breath, clamping down on her panic that had welled up the moment Dean said undercover. Dean. Teacher Dean. Third Grade teacher Dean. Third grade teacher who hadn’t been in a real fight since twelfth grade Dean. Third Grade teacher Dean who could really handle himself like a pro if Mary were being honest with herself, but had no _need_ to handle himself like a pro, was going to tote firearms and do ‘undercover stuff’ for the FBI. Dean, who was supposed to be the safe son, the son Mary didn’t have to worry about any longer. Her little angel, who Mary thought had all his trouble (and there had been a _hell_ of a lot of trouble) behind him. Who was in the first long term, committed relationship that Mary approved of, had a steady, wonderful job, an excellent place to live, and was _happy_ for the first time since he was four-years-old, and wasn’t frightened to death for Sammy.

Dean picked up Castiel’s beer and took a long swig while he waited for Mary’s response. The woman frowned at her son, and Dean did have the grace to look guilty. He put the beer down and pushed it away, but didn’t meet her eyes. He picked up his Perrier instead and swallowed nearly the entire bottle in one go. Once he was done, his line of sight zeroed in on the individual butters placed haphazardly on the plate. He reached out and began straightening them. Castiel snatched Dean’s hand back and held it firmly in his own.

Mary sighed, “I’m sorry Dean. I didn’t mean to upset you, but I just need a moment… I thought you loved teaching and I’m… surprised.” _Worried, terrified, not sure if you can handle the stress of this whole crazy scheme. Frightened of what it may do to you. Please God, you promised you wouldn’t take him away from me._

“Dean,” John said gruffly, “are you really sure this is the best idea, Son? And Castiel, I’m a little surprised…”

“Believe me, Sir, I don’t like it any more than you do, but Sam and I have debated all feasible options, and given what it is we’re working on, this is the best solution,” Castiel said calmly, military man to military man. Not once betraying how his heart was pounding a mile a minute in his chest, or that his palm was sweating where it was pressed up against Dean’s jumpy, twitching fingers on his lap. Mary closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

“Mom…?” Dean ventured.

“Sorry,” Mary whispered. “I’m just… Dean, are you sure?”

“Mom, I have to,” Dean replied, that familiar steely determination falling over him, a determination that so often mirrored her own.

Mary nodded, “Okay then.”

Dean blinked, then surprised laughter slipped through, the sound not joyful in the least. “That’s it?”

Mary nodded tightly. “Dean, you’re thirty-two years old. I should have stopped deciding your life for you years ago. If you want to do this, if you feel you have to do this, then all right. Just… just promise me… Castiel.”

Castiel’s head snapped up.

“Castiel, you promise me you’ll keep him safe,” Mary glared at the agent.

Castiel swallowed and nodded stiffly. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“You promised, Boy,” John said sternly. Castiel snapped up into rigid military posture and his hand twitched, automatically wanting to salute, but he managed to bite it back by tightening his grip around Dean’s hand.

“Sir!” Castiel couldn’t stop from slipping out. John nodded, satisfied. Mary picked up her knife and fork, cutting a small piece off of her steak and chewing. The table fell into an awkward, stiff silence.

Dean cleared his throat, “So everyone have a good time at the carnival?”

Sam suddenly grinned over at Dean. “Well, we know you did, at least.” 

Dean hissed, “Sam!” and kicked out. 

“Ow,” Castiel said flatly and pointedly.

Sam let out his full belly laugh as Dean’s ears flushed pink.

“Sorry, Cas,” Dean muttered.

“Will you boys settle down? For Heaven’s sake, you’re embarrassing poor Jessica. So Jess, any wedding plans yet? Do you know where it’s going to be? A date?” Mary pressed, leaning towards the other petite blonde.

“Well, we’ve been thinking…” Jess and Mary fell into that close, huddled conversation that women were so fond of.

“Sam, you and Jessica aren’t going to stay in that god-awful rented apartment that smells like cigarette smoke and sweat socks are you? You have to give this pretty girl a proper home. Any thought on that yet, Son?” John piped up, shooting his piercing dark gaze to his youngest.

“Ah… well…”

“Sam, honestly, I won’t hear of it. You will give that…”

Dean grinned privately at Castiel, and Castiel smiled back. As big confessions go, that one went pretty well.

“My brother’s in real-estate,” Castiel offered, jumping in at the end of John’s lecture on the merits of a proper homestead. “I’ll have him call Sam. You remember Balthazar, don’t you?” 

Sam groaned, and Dean smiled.

Yeah, pretty well indeed.

**End Chapter**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter. The holiday caused a schedule change. Please enjoy!
> 
> Special Thanks to Dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you!

Dean slid out of the warm pile that was their sheets and Castiel’s strong arms, and padded over to the window, cotton pyjama pants swishing softly as he moved. Dean shivered slightly as the cooler air of the room hit his bare chest. He pushed aside the gauzy curtain of the big French window and stared out into the night. The street was quiet. The red brick faces of the apartments across the way and the stretch of green lawn were dark and sleepy. Everything was wrought iron, classic architecture, and peace. The window was cool to the touch of Dean’s palm, the glass fogging around the outline. He stared at it for a moment, then pulled away and checked on Castiel before exiting the room. He was a little startled to see the soft golden glow of the kitchen lamp cascading into the wide-open space of their living room, painting the hardwood of the floor honey-gold.

Dean padded into the kitchen, scratching his hair. “Mom, couldn’t you sleep? Is the guest room not comfortable? I told Castiel we should have gotten a new matt—”

“It’s fine, Baby,” Mary cut in, with a gentle smile for her son.

“Mom, I’m thirty-two,” Dean rolled his eyes at the nickname and went over to the kettle. He put an experimental hand against the white-painted metal to see if it was still hot. 

“Yes, well, you and Sam will always be my babies. You’ll understand if you have kids one day,” Mary said.

“Yeah, but I don’t know who’s gonna carry that one to term, because frankly I don’t have the hips for it and Castiel would bitch and moan so much I’d kill him,” Dean joked. He reached into the cupboard and pulled down his mug with _Teachers Rule_ scrawled across it.

Mary shook her head at her son before offering, “It’s not the bed that’s keeping me up. Your father’s sleeping like a grizzly in winter.”

“Mom, that says nothing for the bed’s comfort… Dad can sleep like the dead in that lumpy, old, ugly brown recliner that you two bought from the thrift store when you got married,” Dean said, riffling around in the cupboard that housed his and Castiel’s auspicious collection of tea before he finally found one that satisfied.

“Well _regardless_ ,” Mary said insistently, “the bed’s fine.”

“Then what is it?” Dean dropped the tea bag in his mug, then poured the hot water over it, watching the trickle of light grey steam dance and move in tiny air-currents before leaving it to steep.

“Still wrapping my head around this whole crazy scheme you, your brother, and your boyfriend have cooked up.”

Dean sighed, dumping the tea bag in the sink and walking on silent feet over to his mother. He sat next to her at the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Mary asked, genuinely startled at the apology.

“For making you worry all over again. I know you just got used to Sam being caught up with the boys in black, and now I had to go and throw this at you too… But Mom… they _need_ me. Something very important and very bad could happen to some very innocent people and I just… I can’t let it happen, you know?”

“It involves a child, doesn’t it?” Mary guessed, resigned.

Dean grinned, abashed. “Gee, how transparent am I? But you know I can’t really talk about it, Mom…”

“I know, I know. I won’t press for details, but like I said, I know you Dean, and kids have always been your greatest weakness… Or strength I suppose, depending how you look at it. Maybe when Jess and Sammy’s baby is born, this ridiculous martyr streak all you boys have will be finally stomped down for good.”

“You know about the baby?” Dean asked.

“I guessed. I’m a little surprised you know though…” Mary said.

Dean grinned, “Cas guessed.”

“Yes, that man has always been uncannily observant,” Mary smiled. “I’m so glad you found him. He’s a wonderful man and I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t freak and disown me when you found out,” Dean laughed. “I expected Dad to at least.”

“Well, Dad had his chance to get used to these things. Uncle Dan’s roommate isn’t just a friend, you know,” Mary smiled.

Dean chuckled, “Yeah, kind of figured that out when I walked in on Uncle Dan ‘helping’ Tom in the shower when I was fourteen. Awkward.”

“Love is blind,” Mary shrugged. “You’ve always been drawn to beautiful things, Dean, ever since you were little, and that Castiel of yours is certainly a beautiful thing.”

“Mom!” Dean laughed. “Jesus. I swear… The thing that tripped Dad up the most was how I dated all those women as well as guys. I think that was harder for him than me just liking guys.”

“Your father is an intelligent man, but he’s a little dim sometimes. _He_ figures its side A or side B; there’s no in between.”

“I love how he still sees so much black in white in the world after all those shades of grey, you know? He’s funny sometimes, you’d think with his service record…” Dean just shook his head. “Well, regardless, if he can’t figure out how I’m just a little crooked, I’m glad we didn’t have a big blow up. I mean when Cas told Luce…” Dean shuddered. 

He hadn’t been the one there for Cas when he went down that path, but he heard the stories. Michael still had a hard time talking about it, and Jimmy had to leave the room when the eldest brother brought it up the one and only time they spoke of it. If it hadn’t been for the boys’ Uncle Joshua, then Dean wasn’t sure if he would ever have found Cas. 

Joshua managed to talk the boys around and prevent the already cracked family from shattering entirely. He helped Castiel crawl out of the dark that he had fallen into after the big show down, just before he returned to the military (once he got out of the hospital, that was). Dean could never figure out how such an amazing man as Joshua had two dickwad sons like Uriel and Raphael. The bastards still refused to speak to Cas after all these years, and Castiel and Uriel had been extremely close growing up. There were only a few months between them in age.

“Well, Cas has you now,” Mary assured, “and us.”

Dean smiled, “I’m glad you guys like him as much as I do. After all the shit he’s gone through, I know it means a lot for him to be part of this family.”

“Are you going to be making him a permanent part any time soon? Your father, brother and I have a bet going and I’m really hoping I’m going to win. If I do, I don’t have to do dishes for a year,” Mary whispered conspiratorially.

Dean choked on his tea. “You guys are betting on me? Jeeze Mom! What’s with everyone and the marriage track lately? I mean, I know it’s legal and everything now, but I don’t think Cas is into that whole thing. His family doesn’t exactly have the best track record with it. Only Jimmy and Balthazar are still married; the rest all got divorced, and frankly if it weren’t for Claire and the Church, I’m pretty sure Jimmy and Amelia wouldn’t be together.”

Mary quirked a brow and gave her son a sidelong look. “Have you two even talked about it? Ever?”

“Not in so many words…” Dean trailed off.

“Silly boys.” She drained the last of her tea and pushed away from the table. “I think I’m going to try and sleep now. I’ll see you in the morning, Sweetheart.” She padded over and placed her mug into the dishwasher before heading to bed.

“Night, Mom.” Dean gave her a kiss on the cheek as she passed, and Mary patted his affectionately. 

Dean stared down at the table, thinking back to a glint of light-coloured metal that had caught his eye not three days ago when he was out grabbing lunch, and thinking about how great it would look on Castiel’s finger. 

xx

Castiel awoke feeling cold, with an icy chill nipping at his gut. He had been dreaming. It hadn’t been a nice dream, but it was too chaotic to remember upon waking. He shuddered, feeling that niggling at the back of his mind, like he was forgetting something important and felt a wash of guilt flood his veins. He just wished he hadn’t been such an idiot Friday night; maybe then he could figure out what the hell was going on with him. Castiel fumbled for his phone, spying the time on the clock. It was the wee hours of the morning, but Balthazar would probably be awake. Castiel hovered his finger over his third speed dial key, but set his Blackberry aside. Balthazar would only worry if he heard from Castiel at 3 o’clock in the morning, and the older brother thought better of calling. Maybe Michael then? He’d be up, wouldn’t he? It was only midnight there… But Elise and Edmund would probably be sleeping, and Castiel didn’t relish the thought of potentially waking his young niece and nephew with a ringing phone. 

Jimmy was out of the question, his twin rose with the birds regardless of the day of the week and Amelia would be angry at him for months if he woke them in the middle of the night. And where the hell was Dean? Castiel slumped back on the bed, arms flung to the sides as he huffed. Dean was probably doing one of his early morning wanderings and would be back soon enough. Castiel nestled down further in the rapidly cooling sheets, wanting the warmth of Dean next to him to chase away whatever it was that was picking at Castiel’s subconscious.

“Cas?” As if on cue, Dean’s voice broke the silence, there was a hint of worry in his tone. “What’s up, Babe?”

Huh, the endearment was slipping out a lot more often as of late, Castiel noted. “Nothing,” Cas responded, he eyes dancing over Dean’s bare chest, silvered in the gauzy moonlight. How was the younger man not cold? It was freezing in this damn apartment.

“Okay,” Dean replied, not at all convinced.

“It’s cold, Dean,” Castiel said, changing the subject.

Dean chuckled, “Sorry. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Castiel watched Dean disappear back down the short corridor to their small washroom. The taller man reappeared moments later and climbed into bed. Castiel hissed as Dean’s icy toes hit his legs.

“Sorry,” Dean said again. 

Castiel turned towards the younger man and shifted him onto his side. Castiel curled around Dean’s back and nestled his nose in the soft, fine hairs at his nape, sliding as close as possible while avoiding the chilly toes. Dean shifted backwards, so he was pressed more firmly against Castiel’s chest, curve of his ass wriggling against the soft swell of Castiel’s groin. Castiel groaned faintly.

“Sorry,” Dean said a third time, not at all repentant now. Castiel could practically hear the filthy grin curling his lips.

Castiel trailed lazy kisses behind Dean’s ear and along his neck, humming into the sweet skin as Dean’s wriggling became more purposeful with each brush of lips. “What came over you earlier tonight?”

Dean shrugged. “Dunno, just felt it was something I had to do. You were acting a little weird Friday night when I brought you home.” 

Any thread of arousal that had been slowly burgeoning disappeared with that casually muttered musing. Castiel froze. “Weird how?” 

“Just off… You kept on trying to tell me something, but I haven’t a clue what it was. You were a little passed the slurry stage… And you’ve stopped kissing me why?” Dean turned to look over his shoulder, shooting Cas a gently aggrieved glare. 

Castiel pressed a distracted kiss to Dean’s neck, thoughts cascading around and trying to latch onto the elusive strands of his Friday memories. His stomach felt heavy and cold again, and he squeezed his arms around Dean’s firm chest, even if he was mentally distanced. Dean wiggled around in the circle of Castiel’s arms until he was facing the older man, eyes flicking around Castiel’s closed expression, a frown falling on his full lips.

“Dude, what’s up?” Dean asked, nudging Castiel in the chest.

“I… don’t know,” Castiel replied. “Sorry, I’m just…”

Dean’s smile was a little watery. “Hey, it’s late. Why don’t we try and do that sleep thing everyone’s always talking about? I hear it’s a beautiful thing.”

Castiel shook himself free from whatever held him, after seeing Dean’s disappointed smile. “Sleep is overrated.”

Dean snorted at that one. “Please, if you could get paid to sleep, you would do it all day.”

“Yes, well, there’re also other things I’d do all day if I could get paid for it. Now quiet, I believe I was supposed to be kissing you,” Castiel murmured.

“I’m not sure if I should be offended at that one,” Dean quirked a brow.

“No, be flattered, because you’re the only one who could keep me entertained all day. Now hush.” Castiel followed up his words with a deep, pressing kiss, slotting his mouth against Dean’s with the comfort and familiarity of two people who had been together for as long as they had. Dean’s lips parted without a thought as their tongues came out to spar languidly in the dark of the morning. The younger man sidled closer to Castiel, pressing the full length of his body against the hard, slender planes of the blue-eyed man. Castiel twitched involuntarily as Dean’s still-chilly toes came in contact with his legs, and Dean chuckled against Castiel’s lips showing no remorse.

“Brat,” Castiel whispered against Dean’s mouth.

“You love it,” Dean whispered back. 

Castiel growled a little at that one and pushed up against Dean’s body, easily flipping the younger man to the flat of his back and looming over him in the darkness. The bed squeaked a little and Dean and Cas both shot a quick glance at the slightly ajar door of their bedroom, suddenly mindful that they weren’t alone in the house. 

“Damnit,” Dean muttered. 

“You’ll just have to be quiet, Dean Winchester, because you’ve been a damned little cock tease all night, and I’ve had about enough of it.” 

Dean stuck his tongue out at Cas, before scrambling away and out of bed. Castiel chased him with his arms but only succeeded in brushing smooth skin with his fingertips. Dean shut their bedroom door quietly, pressing the lock in on the doorknob, before hurrying back over and crawling under the covers. Castiel hissed once again at the bloody cold toes.

“You need slippers,” Castiel murmured, rolling Dean under him again.

“No fucking way,” Dean replied, pressing his chest up against the other man’s and wrapping his arms around Castiel’s neck. “Slippers are lame, Dude, and you’re talking too much.” Dean pressed his lips to Castiel’s again.

“And you’re bossy,” Castiel answered between kisses.

Dean grinned against Castiel’s lips, murmuring, “That’s what makes me so much fun.” 

Castiel growled again and resumed attacking Dean’s mouth, feeling those firm, slightly callused hands trailing down the cotton of his T-shirt, and Castiel was suddenly not cold at all. He pulled back just enough to pull the shirt over his head, ignoring Dean’s little whimper at the brief distance, in favour of being able to press bare skin to bare skin, firm muscle to firm muscle. Dean arched up into him, pressing their hips firmly together and began a slow teasing grind, the thin layers of cotton that separated them acting as a very poor - but also as a very impenetrable - barrier between them. 

Castiel’s fingers teased down the increasing heat of Dean’s chest, rubbing and kneading at the base of his ribs, then lower, over the top of the green-eyed man’s hips, running his nails along the curve of the bone he found there, causing Dean to start and arch into him more firmly. Dean’s hands had migrated down Castiel’s back and were slowly squeezing and rubbing at his ass, trailing low over the swell at the bottom and teasing infuriatingly at the ticklish part just behind Castiel’s knee. The gesture shot little sparks of arousal straight down Castiel’s side, making him all the harder.

Dean was also doing interesting things to Castiel’s neck, lapping and nibbling at his throat before flattening his tongue and running it in a straight line from clavicle to earlobe. Castiel hissed out a breath and grinded down on Dean’s hips, seeking more friction as those straight, white teeth bit and sucked at the soft skin of Castiel’s ear. 

Dean chuckled at how easy Castiel was, a soft gust of breath ghosting over Castiel’s ear, causing the older man to lean down and bite at Dean’s neck in retaliation, expertly raising a small, red mark that would be a bruise by morning. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed as he moaned and arched into Castiel, attack on the blue-eyed man’s ear temporarily abandoned, leaving Castiel open to unleash an onslaught of his own. 

Castiel leaned in again and dragged his teeth gently along the curve of Dean’s shoulder, then over to the jut of hard bone at the base of his neck. Dean’s blunt nails dug into the skin of Castiel’s legs at that, surely leaving behind tiny crescents in their wake. Castiel scratched his nails gently, feather light, down Dean’s side. Dean moaned low and throaty and Castiel clamped his other hand around those wanton lips, before any louder noise could escape. Dean fluttered his eyes closed and nodded before opening them in a glare at the slightly older man. Castiel smiled and leaned down again, snatching a kiss from pouty, flushed and swollen lips, after slowly removing his hand.

“I thought you were going to be quiet,” Castiel whispered in Dean’s ear, feeling the shivers dance down Dean’s skin at the ghosting breath. 

“You’re the one who keeps fucking talking,” Dean panted up at him. He bit none-too-gently at Castiel’s shoulder, causing the blue-eyed man to release a hiss at the sharp pain, followed by a breathy little laugh that he knew drove Dean crazy.

“You’re a monster,” Castiel said around his chuckle. 

It was Dean’s turn to growl as he reached up and flipped them in one quick, easy move, the springs of the bed squeaking ever so slightly as Castiel’s displaced weight landed bodily on the mattress below. Dean trailed soft, warm fingers down Castiel’s arms as he devoured his lips, desperate for the wet darkness, and the taste of Castiel’s mouth. Castiel’s mouth dropped open in a silent gasp, arching his neck as Dean grabbed his arms and pinned them above his head, dropping kisses down Castiel’s jaw, neck, and collar bone, skilled tongue dipping lower and lower to suck and nip at erect nipples, which had Castiel gasping again and seeking more. 

Dean let his fingers trail away from their grasp on Castiel’s wrists, gentle touches brushing feather light down the sensitive underside of Castiel’s arms, before trailing lower, across the corduroy jut of ribs and the firm muscle of Castiel’s abdomen. Dean snagged on Castiel’s embarrassingly dampening cotton pants and dragged them off and down his hips in one swift move. With little more preamble than a nip and a lick to Castiel’s inner thighs, Dean took Castiel’s solid erection into the suffocating heat of his talented mouth. Castiel arched up before he could stop himself, but Dean was ready and had pulled off just enough, holding steady hands on Castiel’s hips to prevent the motion again.

“Fuck…Jesus…Dean,” Castiel panted, quiet and barely audible. He felt Dean’s lips curl into a grin, the unsettling pressure of sharp teeth just grazing the sensitive skin of Castiel cock at the motion, but no more than that. Then Dean began to move and Castiel lost whatever coherent thoughts he may have possessed, as they all narrowed down to the sensation of a wickedly talented tongue that knew how to undo him in minutes. 

Castiel felt like Dean was trying to strip him bare with that slick sinuous muscle alone. The slightly younger man licked and sucked at all the right moments, and in all the right places. He traced along the thick, throbbing vein along the underside of Castiel’s dick, before dipping briefly into the tiny weeping slit at the tip, then doing it all over again. Dean all but crashed his mouth down and Castiel felt the teasing pressure of the back of a throat on the head. Every instinct told him thrust, more, need but firm, work-calloused hands kept Castiel’s hips pinned with delightfully bruising pressure, and all he could do was grip the headboard and enjoy the ride. Then the world suddenly narrowed back into sharp, abrupt focus when Dean pulled away with a wicked grin.

“Fuck, Dean, what the hell?” Castiel panted.

“Fuck Dean, exactly,” Dean retorted. 

If that wasn’t the best idea Castiel ever heard, then he didn’t know what could be a better one. The blue-eyed man reached up and gripped Dean’s arms, reversing their positions in an instant, the bed creaking and whining once again. Both men paused and waited before snickering like teenagers, and then Castiel was fumbling around in their bedside table for the key ingredient for what came next, while Dean was cursing the string on his pants that had been pulled the wrong way and was now stuck. He managed to navigate it free and pushed his pants down his legs in a hurried, fumbling motion. 

With skin bared and on display, ready and waiting, Castiel could only lean up and press a deep, probing kiss to Dean’s lips, a little slower and a little more languid than previously, and Dean was whimpering up into his mouth, moaning softly as he pulled Castiel closer to his body with arms and legs.

“Cas, please,” Dean whispered. 

Castiel nodded, gave another brief kiss, before he had the tube of lubricant in his hands once again and was coating his fingers in the cool gel, taking pity on the wrecked man below him and warming it the best he could, before probing at the wanting hole. 

Dean tensed involuntarily at the initial pressure, like he always did, regardless of how many times they did this, before he released the breath he’d been holding through his nose, and Castiel felt the tight ring of muscle relax around his questing digit. Dean’s eyes squeezed shut, obscuring Castiel’s view of dark pupils blown wide, almost completely hiding the ring of mossy green. 

Castiel waited again, then whispered, “Dean.”

“Yeah, go for it,” Dean breathed, flickering his eyes open once again and locking Castiel’s gaze. After the initial sharp probe and burn, Dean’s body became relaxed more and more. Each finger began to slide in easily until Castiel was nudging Dean’s prostate with every gentle stroke, and Dean was whimpering and squirming below.

“Fuck Cas, enough, enough,” Dean panted. 

Castiel nodded, grabbing more lube and smearing it around his waiting cock, subconsciously fluttering his eyes closed even at his own touch, before lining himself up and pressing. Another clench and Castiel breathed slowly, waiting for the sign that Dean was ready, waiting for the minute the younger man finally relinquished the control he was so desperate to maintain even after three years. 

It happened all at once, as it usually did, Dean’s entire body seemed to let go with a sigh, before green bore deep and desperate into blue and Castiel slid inside the tight, moist heat with ease. 

Unbidden, a low moan fell from Castiel’s panting mouth. Castiel, could usually be quiet to the point of deafening when it came to sex, and Dean, hearing the sound he loved, thrust back and took him all in at once. A quivery little cry slipped free of cupid’s bow lips that Castiel caught in a deep kiss, before the sound could travel too far. As he thrust and pulled and Dean pushed back, both of them fell easily into the familiar rhythm that came from knowing someone as intimately as they knew each other. 

Dean knew after Castiel released all those dirty little noises and the long stream of curses that Castiel was lost, and their tempo increased, straining against one another. Bodies slick with sweat from the exertion, Dean could only hold on to Castiel’s shoulders as the agent reached down from where he was braced on his elbows and grabbed Dean’s weeping cock tight in his sure fist, pulling and stroking until Dean had to bite his lip until it bled to keep the cry so desperate to escape trapped inside. Then, warm and wet, Castiel released. A few more easy tugs and Dean was falling over the edge as well, head thrown back in blissful abandon. 

Castiel panted above him, then fell bodily on top of the slightly larger man, crushing him under comfortable weight, and Dean clung to him, wrapping his arms tightly around Castiel’s body and burying his nose in Castiel’s neck, the only sound in their dark room the harshness of their panted breaths.

Castiel felt a warm trickle on his shoulder and pulled back slightly, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?” It was warm and affectionate. Castiel gently brushed the small trickle of blood away, then leaned up and kissed Dean. 

Dean smiled, chagrined.

“Apparently I missed some… Strange how your blood and semen taste almost identical,” Castiel mused with a quirky little smile, his eyes flashing in jest. 

Dean snorted out a laugh and pushed at the older man. “Get off of me, Weirdo.”

“No, I rather like it here,” Castiel responded and laid back down, resting his cheek on Dean’s shoulder. He shifted just enough to allow his softening erection to slip free of Dean’s cradling heat. Dean grimaced a little at the warm trickle that followed the movement, but just shook his head and squeezed the other man in a hug.

Dean waited a beat, feeling Castiel’s slowly-evening breaths against his chest, their sweat drying in the cool room, and the almost annoying tickle of Castiel’s sex-mussed hair against his cheek, before saying, casually, “Your turn to wash the sheets, you know.”

“Well fuck,” Castiel said lightly. 

Dean chuckled.

**End Chapter**


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just wanted to let everyone know that there will not be a chapter update next week as this is the last chapter for Arc I but there will be an Interlude posted next week. Regular posting schedule will resume Tuesday, May 1st. Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information.
> 
> A huge thank you to my beta who basically made this chapter readable. Thank you!

  


It had been nearly a week since the fateful confession to Dean’s parents. A week since Dean had begun his series of gruelling tests. A week since Sam announced that he was going to be married. A week since Dean’s parents had left, and a week since – much to Castiel’s dismay – Dean and Castiel had managed to spend any significant time together. 

Castiel sighed, blinking into the early morning light, alone in bed as usual, and figured that if he was going to make it into work, he had better go now. 

When Castiel stepped under the scorching spray of the water in the shower, feeling it seep into gradually tensing muscles, something bizarre settled over him. A strange thrumming anxiety built in his stomach and squeezed up through his lungs and chest until it settled, chokingly, in his throat. Castiel shook himself, hair that was growing just a bit too long sending a cascade of water droplets around the shower, pinging against frosted glass and ceramic tile. Inexplicably, Castiel shuddered and nudged the cooler water closer to hot until the shower spray began turning his skin angry red with hot pinpricks. 

If Dean had been home right then, he’d have been yelling at Cas through the shower door, perhaps going so far as to bang on the glass, and telling him to hurry up or he’d be late. Telling him to get his selfish ass out of the shower because: “So help me, God, if I have to shower in cold water again, you and the couch are gonna be real good buddies later tonight.” 

But no, Dean wasn’t home to bitch and nag about the water, because those gentle moments of domestic bliss would not occur for another eight months. When school was out and Castiel could selfishly have Dean all to himself again, and not wake up in a cold, lonely bed. When he’d come home after a long day to eat burned, breaded chicken and blackened potatoes, with corn that was put on so long that half of it popped, and see Dean’s shamed blushes at his ineptitude with standard kitchen appliances. Or the fonder occasions where he could sink his teeth into savoury barbeque, licking every drop of sauce from sticky fingers, and see Dean’s eyes dance and light up at witnessing Castiel’s pleasure in the meal.

But the wants and wish-I-could-haves were neither here nor there, because Dean was off at work, followed by his final examination before he commenced his mission, and wouldn’t be home until late that night. Castiel should have been at work twenty minutes ago, but he found little desire to rush through the morning. 

When the water finally started to go cold, Castiel turned it off, dried, and dressed quickly. He grabbed toast for breakfast, just with butter, and slid the knot of his tie up firmly before grabbing his overcoat and exiting the house. He knew, somehow, that the tie would find itself loosened again and hang sloppily and awkwardly like a dead thing against his chest within the hour, but he had tried at least. 

A firm believer of ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ Castiel indulged with a stop at their favourite little coffee place and picked up a cappuccino for himself and a latte for Sam. It was the least Castiel could do, considering he had to abandon him that afternoon. On a sudden whim, and thinking it was never any harm to brown-nose, especially when arriving nearly an hour late to work, Castiel grabbed Ellen that frosted lemon cake she liked so much. He caught sight of himself briefly in the glass, and oh, look at that, the tie was already a sloppy mess against the sharp contrast of his crisp, white dress shirt. Castiel chuckled, before finally driving his SUV onto the familiar path to the Federal Building.

It wasn’t until Castiel crossed the threshold of the Federal Building and went through his usual routine that he felt the frisson of anxiety jolt through him once again. Castiel found himself coming up with all sorts of excuses for it. He passed it off as hardly seeing Dean lately. That led him to change his mind, and conclude with certainty that it was him empathising with Dean about this being his last day with his kids before heading off to the Academy, where he would be spending the next several weeks to months. Then he changed his mind, and thought perhaps his anxiety was also because he had to break in a new partner today, a kid that was so green that Castiel felt as if he would have to take the fresh agent for a good vault around the building before even thinking of releasing the agent into the public. 

None of these thoughts put his mind at ease, and the anxiety remained. For Castiel - with all his logic - would never in a million years think that it was some sort of sixth sense informing him that within a manner of hours, he would be sprawled out across a dirty, greasy alley in the industrial district, in the wake of a shuddering bomb blast.

“I hate the fact that you’re stuck here,” Castiel said, dropping the coffee he had picked up in front of Sam. The younger agent flashed him a wide, winning smile that was all gratitude and teeth. Castiel would never cease to admire the power a Winchester smile had over a person, and found himself grinning in response.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam said after a blissful sip that actually had him closing his eyes at the taste. “Being a desk jockey sucks way more ass than I ever want to think about. Oh well, at least I can get my geek on,” Sam finished with a shrug. Though if anyone ever told Dean he had phrased it that way, Sam would deny it vehemently to his last breath.

“It’s especially horrid now, when I have to show that kid the ropes while chasing down that lead your little girlfriend gave us,” Castiel griped, settling into the visitor’s chair on the other side of Sam’s large black desk. 

Sam shuddered and wrinkled his nose. “Ah… Cas man, ew. Every time I have to talk to Ruby, I feel violated… It’s like she’s trying to trick me into something and eye-fuck me all at once. Way too disturbing, on way too many levels. I don’t even like brunettes.”

“No, that’s not it, you _only_ like Jessicas,” Castiel teased.

“ _One_ Jessica… and man, you know she’s intelligent, incredible and gorgeous, what’s not to like?” Sam grinned, big and foolish, and Castiel could only chuckle warmly at the love he saw in those green eyes.

“And your bride-to-be, and the mother of your child,” Castiel smirked.

Sam coughed. “Ah… er… huh?”

“You’re cute when you play dumb, Sam,” Castiel said. He let it drop, though, and stood with a stretch. “I suppose I should go do some actual work now. Enjoy your coffee, I’ll check in when I’m on the road, let you know of any updates. Wish me luck with the fawn.”

“She’s a good kid, Castiel,” Sam shrugged. “Young and idealistic, but her heart’s in the right place.” Castiel just nodded and waved absently over his shoulder.

Castiel wandered out of the bull-pen and down the hall to his office. When he reached it, he saw a young blonde hovering at the entrance. Her eyes were wide and starry, her hair pulled back into a professional bun at the nape of her neck, and she was dressed in a standard black suit and white blouse.

“Good morning, Rachel,” Castiel said gently.

“Good morning, Agent L’Ange,” she said, taking a faltering step toward him, before flushing and taking a faltering step back. 

“Please, call me Castiel,” he insisted.

If anything, her blush seemed to deepen and she nodded stiffly.

He entered his office and bustled around at his desk for a moment before looking up and quirking a brow. Castiel had been around Winchesters for far too long and forgot polite people still existed in the world.

“Come in, Rachel,” Castiel said with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry, I would have said it earlier, but my usual partner generally comes in, permission or no. Please, sit down.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she said quietly, all thoughts of calling him Castiel apparently ignored. 

Castiel chuckled to himself and sat down on the desk, flipping through the file he had there before handing it over to the young woman. It made Castiel a little uncomfortable to see her sitting in Sam’s chair, but he had to deal with it now. It was only temporary, but Castiel had never really been good with change. Dean was not the only one with quirks in this relationship. 

“That’s everything we’ve managed to pull together on Brady. All in all, not exactly an honourable fellow, but he has a surprising amount of information at his disposal. Ruby assured us that if we go investigate the provided location, we should receive some excellent intel. Oddly enough, the two always use the same meeting place: the storehouse for Niveus Industries at the harbour. Brady is apparently the acting CEO of the company at this time, despite his youth.”

Rachel frowned, “Is that not a pharmaceutical company?”

“Yes, they primarily deal in vaccinations, but according to Ruby, they also use the laboratories to concoct various narcotics that Crowley then distributes. All under the guise of an upstanding enterprise, of course,” Castiel nodded. “Their latest venture is something akin to phenylcyclohexyl-piperidine when used in both small and large doses. That is, you gain the staggering, stuttering gait that low doses of PCP often elicit, combined with hallucinations, violent outbursts, apparent invincibility, and strength that is so often associated with PCP in a higher dose… It’s been coined the Zombie drug by traffickers and dealers. Now, the drug itself is more a matter for the Narcotics Division of the Boston PD, but we are interested in any information we can get on Crowley, which means we’re going to this meeting. I understand this may be a bit of a nerve-wracking mission to begin with, but you do have to start somewhere, after all.”

Rachel nodded, once and firm. Without wavering, she said, “I’m ready.”

Castiel tried for a reassuring smile, which only succeeded in making Rachel begin to blush and fidget once again.

“All right then, may I recommend field gear? I’ll meet you at my vehicle in about ten minutes. I’ve parked out front today,” Castiel said. It was technically visitor parking out front, but Castiel knew he wasn’t going to be very long in the office, and most of his fellow agents tended to indulge him for one reason or another, regardless.

Rachel nodded again and stood. “Yes Sir.” 

When she disappeared from view, Castiel just shook his head at her blind obedience and opened the small closet he had behind his desk. He shrugged out of his trench coat and suit jacket, slinging his tie around the hanger, before tucking both items away and toeing off his dress shoes. His well-worn black combat boots were shined and waiting in the closet, and he sat to lace them up before letting his pants settle over them. Vest, vinyl FBI field jacket - into the pocket of which he tucked his badge - and he was ready. 

He checked both his weapons one last time before slipping out of his office. He waved to Andy and Nancy on his way out and nodded to Sam, who gave him an energetic thumbs-up.

xx

Rachel was quiet on the way over, reading and re-reading the file on Brady she had opened on her lap. Castiel kept on giving her sidelong glances as he smoothly navigated the Suburban around the streets of Boston. He always thought the vehicles were a bit pretentious, but if the Bureau kept paying for the gas, he wouldn’t complain about driving it. 

Castiel kept on waiting for Rachel to open her mouth and fire off question after question about this, that, and the other, like Sam had done when he had sat in that very seat for the first time, files open on his lap. Rachel remained studiously quiet, not even hemming quietly to herself, as Castiel knew he would at times. It was almost eerie how she carried herself, and Castiel was not at all accustomed to being spooked by anything… Period. Well, except for snakes… 

Sam had known him from before; they hadn’t been strangers when they were partnered up, and Castiel supposed that was partly why Sam felt so comfortable about rambling on about the case. He was also naturally curious; all Winchesters were naturally curious, but Sam especially. Dean had told him that when Sam was five years old, he’d constantly sounded like he was writing a newspaper article, firing out _Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How_ whenever he could. Castiel allowed himself a small, fond smile at the mental-picture of an irritated nine-year-old Dean, constantly keeping his temper with his brother in check as he dragged the small boy around behind him wherever he went. That finally elicited _some_ response from Rachel, but only slightly. With a brief, curious flash of her eyes, she returned her attention to the task at hand.

Castiel sighed and ran a hand through his hair (a borrowed Winchester gesture); he had never been much of a conversationalist, preferring for others to lead the discussion, but he assumed it was up to him this time. “Do you have any questions, Rachel? About the case?”

“No Sir, I’ve had a copy of the file since early this week,” Rachel remarked. 

And she was _still_ going over it? Even Castiel had to baulk at that one. 

Usually, he gave files the cursory glance that he needed to give them, and let them join the increasingly overfilled drawer of files in his desk. Mind you, with his experience, he tended to pick up patterns and key points faster than most. It came from spending a good four years of your life constantly ducking bombs and gunfire while on the move from insurgents in the Middle East. You needed to be fast or you were killed. Plain and simple. 

Castiel felt a twist in his chest, as he always did, when he thought of his time away. Thoughts of his murdered and killed brothers-in-arms flashing through his mind, with the unwitting guilt that he had survived and not them. Some of them were just children, really, starting out with new wives or husbands and babies, or not even as far as that. Boys and girls fresh out of school, ready and eager to make a difference in a land a world away, and war they didn’t fully understand: Patriotism at his best and worst. Castiel, in comparison, was old; he’d seen his life and had nothing to go back to.

But that was then, before Dean. Castiel wasn’t sure if he would go back if he were asked to accompany the select few men who - at this point - were mostly being sent over for training missions, though the danger was no less real. He wasn’t sure if he could, were asked back, now that he had something waiting for him, too.

“Sir? Was that not our turn-off?” Rachel asked hesitantly. 

Castiel slammed on the breaks, the squeal of abused rubber making him wince in the otherwise silent car. He waved off a few angry horns he heard behind him and pulled a U-turn that he probably really shouldn’t have pulled, considering he was a Law Enforcement Agent of the Federal Government. 

Rachel didn’t say anything, but her quirked eyebrow spoke volumes. Castiel found himself warming up to her a little.

As Castiel pulled down the road - which was really little more than a strip of asphalt and potholes - he gathered his thoughts back to the mission at hand. He studiously chose to ignore the nagging sinking twinge in his gut, thinking there was really no rationale for it to be there. No one knew they were coming, they would in all likelihood slip in, observe without engaging, and slip out again. Simple and easy reconnaissance, which was something that Castiel was extremely familiar with. All he had to worry about was his green partner keeping her head down and her mouth shut, and he’d be fine. It wasn’t the first time he had broken in a new agent, and it probably wouldn’t be his last. There was absolutely no cause for his infuriating ‘spidey sense,’ as Dean affectionately termed it, to flare up.

“Gear and weapons check,” Castiel ordered after he pulled his overlarge SUV up into the smallest nook he could find to stash it in, and hopped out. 

Rachel dutifully obeyed, checking her standard Glock and then her backup, which was the smallest the Bureau provided (the cost for the second weapon coming out of the agent’s own pocket, of course), and also a long, deadly looking blade that Castiel knew was not at all standard issue (and was surprised, because Rachel seemed so straight laced even by Castiel’s high standards), and he was rather impressed. He raised a brow at her to indicate this, and she blushed once more in response before tucking the blade back into the sheath down the side of her boot. She checked her vest again and her communicator, the clear plastic cord disappearing into strands of hair that had tumbled from her bun, and nodded at Castiel. 

Castiel tucked his own communicator up in his ear, resisting the urge to scratch at the initial tickling irritation that the rubbery plastic sliding along his neck caused, and nodded to the doors on the south side of the building. 

Ruby had assured them that Brady and his Boss always entered by the north side, and that the sound of breakers on the wood of the south side would disguise the light tread of their feet on what would undoubtedly be dirty concrete. It wasn’t long after this that Castiel wondered if Ruby had ever learned to read a compass, because just after he and Rachel had crossed the threshold (after Castiel made quick work on the lock that he assured Rachel had been opened already, to which Rachel blinked in response - hey, former-vandal boyfriends had their perks after all), they heard the not-at-all disguised sound of feet clomping towards them, and several men’s voices ringing in the salty air… from the south. 

Castiel grit his teeth and grabbed Rachel’s arm, ushering her deeper into the warehouse than they intended to go, crouching and hiding behind a skid of several medium-sized crates wrapped in thick, white plastic. The voices moved off, however, and Castiel let out a breath that he hadn’t been aware he had been holding. Rachel sat, vacant and wide-eyed beside him, her chest heaving with each rapid breath.

“Rachel,” Castiel snapped firmly but quietly, grabbing her delicate chin in his pistol-calloused hand. 

She flinched, and then came back to herself, letting out one long, shaky breath and nodding once. 

A few moments later – which really seemed like hours— they heard the loud, screeching grind of large metal bay doors sliding against rusty tracks from directly in front of them. Castiel flatted himself further against the crate and held his breath again. He didn’t risk a peek over the crates to see why Brady had decided the shipping entrance would be a good change of pace for the day. 

A man hollered out a hollow, echoing greeting, and a door from somewhere down the floor opened and shut. A moment later, men’s voices were rumbling good naturedly together, and the unmistakable sound of a truck backing up alerted Castiel to the fact that, clandestine meeting or no clandestine meeting, Niveus still received deliveries, apparently. 

Rachel seemed like she was about to say something, but Castiel held up a firm, hushing hand, and Rachel closed her mouth. Castiel very suddenly did not at all appreciate the niggling, churning feelings in his chest and stomach, and was about ready to evacuate the premises before any more unexpected arrivals. Though, given the situation, he assumed the _expected_ arrivals were still spades more dangerous than the unexpected ones. 

Castiel was about ready to send a quick text to their back-up team to let Ellen know that they were aborting, when the large bay doors clattered shut and a bolt slid in place with finality. Another far off metallic bang of a door echoed down the length of the building and everything got very, very quiet.

Castiel waited a beat, then two, before chancing a glance over the crates that were their pithy shelter at the moment, and eased up further when all was clear. The truck from earlier had delivered a fair-sized skid, identical to the one they crouched behind, but something about it didn’t sit quite right with Castiel. It was ominous somehow, and being the intrepid - and admittedly at times, moronic - FBI agent that he was, Castiel decided to investigate.

“Stay here,” he hissed at Rachel.

Castiel crept out onto the floor, which was when the agent noticed that all along the stretch of the building, there were skid after skid of evenly placed crates. _Too_ evenly placed to be entirely random, and the building seemed deathly silent. Then the barely-discernible beep and whir of a tiny electronic device caught his sensitive ears, and his eyes widened the same moment the skid at the furthest end of the building exploded in a fiery, orange-red cloud.

“Fuck!” Castiel snarled. “Rachel! Run! Now!” 

Castiel knew he had a better advantage over the young woman; he was out in the open floor and his stretch to the doors they had entered was clear of debris and crates. Rachel had to navigate around several stacked skids before she could be in the clear as well. 

Castiel waited impatiently, mentally counting down the seconds they had left as the other crate blew only ten beats after the first. They had roughly twenty seconds to get out of the building, and Castiel could only assume the first crowd of men that had herded them inside had locked their exit on their way past. 

He weighed the merits of waiting for her to be clear, or running to the door to kick it, blow it, and pick it open so it would be ready for when she was free. After sparing her a brief glance, he was at the exit in several long strides.

… Fourteen seconds… 

The door, as expected, was locked, and the bolt reinforced. His Glock probably had the kick necessary to break through the poorly-reinforced metal, but the shrapnel that would result could have dire backlash.

….Ten seconds… 

And on cue, the second-to-last skid blew behind him, and Rachel’s cry of fear - and perhaps pain - at the concussive force made Castiel wince. He spared her another brief glace to verify that, yes, she was still standing and moving, before turning his attention back to the lock. 

…Seven seconds… 

Thrust, twist, wiggle, press, _click!_

Rachel was at his back then, swaying and woozy but still standing, and Castiel pushed the door open just as his mental timer cheerily informed him that they had three seconds to get the hell out of dodge. Then, very suddenly, the world went up in heat and flame just as he crossed the threshold behind Rachel. 

He tackled her down, the blast a scorching burn of hot air through the nylon of his jacket and the Kevlar of his vest as they skidded to a stop at the edge of the abrupt drop-off into the churning bay. Castiel’s head slammed down with force on the wood, and he heard a strange crunching sound as he rolled. 

The last thought that drifted through Castiel’s mind before the blackness took him was the strangeness of Rachel’s eyes, staring blankly up at the sky, reflecting the blue in their murky depths.

  
  
**End Arc I**   
  



	9. Interlude: Battle Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel share a moment together early in their relationship. Dean learns more of Castiel’s strength and resilience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small interlude from _Sin with a Grin_. This may not make sense if read alone. Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information
> 
> Special thanks to Dapperscript for the wonderful beta! 
> 
> **Warnings:** All Human AU, FBI!fic, teacher!fic, slash, established relationship, m/m sexual content, mature situations/themes, possible graphic violence, **_talk of war and associated violence_** which may affect sensitive readers.

**Sin with a Grin – Interlude: Battle Scars**

It wasn’t their first time, no, their first time was a desperate fumble in Castiel’s hotel room the night they met in Palo Alto, and it had been great, and wonderful, and comfortable the next morning. But then, then it had been just sex. Now, it was more, now Dean - after getting to know Castiel properly over the last several weeks - was taking his time. They lay on Dean’s bed, in Dean’s tiny apartment, the light from the streetlamps casting enough of a glow to see by, but not enough be blinding or startling. More than enough to see the hard lines of Castiel’s body. Skin taunt over sinewy muscle but not smooth, no, not smooth at all. 

“And this one?” Dean trailed his fingers along a puckered, round scar low on Castiel’s chest.

“One of my earlier assignments with the FBI. I was working with a hothead then; he had been in the bureau longer than I had, but I had been in combat longer than he. There were three suspects holed up in the bank. They had ten hostages. The negotiator apparently wasn’t making progress, and the leader didn’t think that his demands were being met fast enough. He threatened to start killing the hostages. My asshole partner believed the bluff, even if I told him it was just that, and charged in the door. I thank whoever was watching out for those people that day that the thieves decided to keep most of the hostages in the bank vault, as opposed to on the floor. They only had two on the floor with them. Needless to say, I knew the minute my partner was spotted that the gunman would start firing. I charged in behind my partner and I had foolishly Velcroed my vest wrong in my haste, and it rode up just as I dove in front of the hostage. The bullet hit, collapsed my lung, and SWAT charged in after that. Woke up on a ventilator in the hospital.”

“Jesus,” Dean muttered. “Here?” He traced a faint, straight scar.

Castiel smiled, “Toppled four stories after chasing down a suspect, snapped my leg clear in two and had to have temporary pins to help it heal straight.”

“This one?” Dean’s fingers danced around the roughly oval shaped scar on Castiel’s upper arm.

“Oh, that was a battle graze. My unit had cornered a small group of insurgents, I dodged when I should have ducked. It wasn’t bad.”

“You’re awfully flippant about being shot,” Dean remarked dryly.

“It gets old after a while,” Castiel replied with a shrug. 

Dean spent the next several minutes grazing, ghosting, and kissing over each scar he found on Castiel’s body, then his fingers skimmed along Castiel’s back and the smaller man tensed below him.

“I noticed these before,” Dean murmured gently. 

Castiel nodded stiffly.

“Can I…?” Dean asked.

Castiel sucked a sharp breath through his nose and nodded. “Yes, I guess.” It took him a few seconds after that, though, before the blue-eyed man finally turned around, pillowing his chin in his crossed arms and leaving his back bared for Dean to see. 

Dean sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the straight, white lines, jutting diagonally out from Castiel’s spine up to the curve of both his shoulders… A macabre representation of wings, the lines crisscrossed near Castiel’s mid-back.

“Cas…” Dean trailed-off. He didn’t know what to say, not really.

“Afghanistan,” Castiel said quietly, his voice mumbled as he spoke into his crossed arms, turning his gaze to stare intently at the white of Dean’s bed sheets. “Near the end of my first tour overseas. You know I went in as a translator, right? That was my main function. I was combat trained, of course, I had to be. They wouldn’t let me over otherwise. I had joined the military, though, as a translator. I did my undergrad in Middle Eastern Studies. I’d been fascinated by the culture since I was a child.” 

Castiel laughed a little bitterly, “I always wanted to go to the Middle East, but I figured I would as a tourist, not as a soldier. I thought I’d be of help, though. I knew the customs, the language, the history. I thought maybe I could help the innocent people there just as much as I’d be helping our own… Naiveté of youth, I suppose. Maybe I did do some good… I like to think that, because it helps me cope with all the bad that I saw… Regardless, they soon realized that I could offer more than just translation.” 

“I’ve always had a head for strategy and could detect patterns that others could not. They used to joke that I had a sixth sense… Well, it began going to my head, and I made a bad judgment call and it cost me. I fell for a trap and they captured me.”

Here, Dean’s fingers tensed against the skin of Castiel’s back and he drew in another sharp breath.

“I was held for three days, in a dark room, with a hood over my head, stripped to my pants, and my ankles and wrists bound together. They spoke to me in English, asking me questions, probing for what I knew. 

“They must have been watching my unit, because they knew what it was I did. I wouldn’t say, though, I couldn’t. Too many lives were at risk if I told them all I knew, and not just American and allied lives. When asking didn’t work, they tried to torture it out of me. There are a few burn scars under the whip scars, mostly obscured. They used a blow torch first, then brought out the whip, salted – God, it was so hard to keep quiet. 

“They never spoke near me about anything other than what they wanted to know. I suppose they knew I spoke their language, or they just couldn’t be bothered. Three days. I was lucky by comparison.”

“Lucky?” Dean asked, small and meek.

Castiel finally turned from his analysis of the bedclothes and met Dean’s green eyes. “Three days, that’s all. Some were held for weeks, months, or years before they were released or found. _If_ they were released or found. I lived. My unit rescued me. They found me and got me out. Not many others could say the same, Dean.”

“How did they find you?” Dean asked.

Castiel smiled, but it wasn’t really a happy smile. “Luck. Pure and simple. Remember that Vet we ran into at the coffee shop last week? You know how he called me Feathers?”

“Yeah…” Dean frowned. “I still don’t get that.”

“There’s a story behind the nickname. Anna would send me strange little packages now and again. Bits and pieces of things she found or came across. Things she thought I’d be amused by. Well, I was somewhat obsessed with birds when I was around thirteen. Anna was only eight, but she remembered. I have no idea where she was, must have been some craft store or something, but she found these brilliant jewel-blue feathers. They didn’t belong to any bird I’d ever come across. I’m pretty sure they were just dyed goose feathers, though I was never able to take them home and analyse them properly. Anyway, the guys teased me endlessly for it, but I loved those damn things and kept them in my pocket with me at all times. That’s how I got my nickname, and that’s also what saved me.”

“Saved you?” Dean asked, looking even more puzzled as the story progressed.

“Yes, they were going to kill me. They didn’t say much beyond asking me questions, like I already told you, but one thing they did tell me just before I was rescued was that they were going to kill me the following day if I didn’t tell them what they wanted to hear. 

“I have suspected for a long time that capturing me was a whim and not really planned out like most. There was never a ransom video and there were only a few men. Also, they didn’t take me far from where I was captured originally. 

“As they were dragging me into this… I suppose it was a storeroom of sorts. It was mostly underground with a tiny outbuilding that led down into it. I was struggling and fighting with everything I could. Well, my efforts caused my feathers to tumble out, and by some fortuitous twist of fate, they were lodged next to the building. Half buried in the sand but stuck in what I suppose must have been a crack or something… Anyway, my unit was patrolling the area looking for clues, and one of the younger guys, we called him Sparky (he had this damn zippo he played with constantly), he saw the flash of blue and called over my Commander.

“I don’t remember much of the rescue. I hadn’t had water or food for the last three days and was in a lot of pain, but I know there was a lot of gunfire and shouting, and then I woke up in a field hospital on my stomach, strapped to the cot. I was told I fought quite hard against the doctors; I didn’t realize they were trying to help me. I just remember thinking the insurgents said they were going to kill me that day, and I couldn’t let that happen. Sparky was the one who told me about it afterwards. He said he tried to get my feathers back, but they were destroyed or lost in the battle.”

“Jesus,” Dean whispered again. His green eyes flickered up to the metallic glint on Castiel’s chest and suddenly it made sense.

“They gave that to you?” Dean asked.

Castiel reached up and touched the white gold feather charm on the end of his necklace and he nodded with a smile. “Yes, when I retired. The boys bought it for me.”

“It’s strange, I’ve only ever been that close to Sam, you know? I can’t really imagine having so many people I trust so implicitly.”

“You have me,” Castiel said lightly. “I suppose it was easier for me than it would have been for you. I’ve only really been close to two of my brothers, and Jimmy and I drifted apart, and Balthazar has only really been around for the last few years. I hadn’t been close to any of my brothers when I left and forged what ties I could. They were all good people. I owe them a lot.”

“You’re good people,” Dean said insistently, dropping a playful kiss on Castiel’s lips.

“You’re a sap,” Castiel teased. “Now I believe you were lavishing me with attention and I would really like to get to the good part sometime tonight.”

Dean grinned, “As you wish.” With no further warning, Dean dipped down and took Castiel in his mouth. 

A loud, surprised groan filled the room.

**End Interlude I**


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to Dapperscript for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
> 
> Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information

  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Castiel awoke to the rhythmic beeping of an EKG and the irritating pull and itch of medical tape on his skin. He felt the slight twinge of a needle as a tube filling him with IV fluid twisted and bent with a brief, convulsive flex of his hand. The occasional mumbled scratchy voice over a PA system hit him next, and above all, overpowering every other realization, was the sterile sickening smell of hospital room and flowers… Orchids if he wasn’t mistaken.

He groaned as the combined smells made his stomach roll and opened his eyes, wincing when he felt medical tape and gauze pull at his forehead. Movement next to him, the rustle of cloth, soft-soled shoes and a voice calling, ‘He’s waking up.’ _Not Dean’s voice… Balthazar_? Tailored black blazer fitting close over trim shoulders, blond short-cropped hair, a long neck, and the distinctness of a British Accent proved that it was indeed Balthazar. Then his world was a bustle of teal, blue, and patterned pink as he was surrounded by various medical personnel. He was poked and prodded. Light flashed blinding in his eyes. Voices asked him questions he answered automatically, even if his throat was raw and scratchy… He was offered water from a straw, and encouraged to drink it, the liquid burning his dry throat once before soothing after. More hustle and bustle and then Castiel could breathe.

“Doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage… Vitals good, response…” Castiel let the medical jabber drift away from him as he focused on the distinct lack of a very important person in his room. _Dean_? Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a moment…

When Castiel awoke the second time it was more gradual, and if not necessarily more pleasant, it was certainly not as jarring. The sickening smell from earlier was present only faintly now, but it was enough for his stomach to still lurch slightly in protest. But what was undeniably much more pleasant was a hand nestled lightly over his own, contours warm and infinitely familiar.

“Dean…” Castiel breathed out.

“Oh Cas, thank God!” Dean gasped, looming over him. The room was darker now and the noises of the hospital a dull thrum – not the franticness of earlier. “Cas… I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up… They…” Dean swallowed then hushed his tone. “They wouldn’t let me in, said I wasn’t considered family.” 

Well, Castiel was aware enough to hear what he thought was pretty well the most ridiculous thing he had heard… If the man you lived with for the last three years, made love with on a mostly regular basis, shared your bed and life with was not considered family, then Castiel really wasn’t sure what _could_ be considered family. But then, of course, all that was meaningless without a ring, wasn’t it?

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Castiel muttered, remembering his talk with Jessica what seemed like centuries ago to his addled mind.

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean chastised gently, having no desire to hear apologies that were pointless, with no cause attached. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Head hurts,” Castiel pouted in response, which earned him a gently endeared grin from the green-eyed man at his bedside.

“All right, all right… Valid point, I’ll get mad at you later. Deal?” 

“Nuh uh,” Castiel murmured. “Kiss, maybe?”

Dean chuckled. “Okay, that I can do. I suppose you getting blown up is punishment enough, huh?” Dean leaned down and the kiss was light and chaste, which Castiel didn’t blame the younger man for because his mouth tasted like ass to him, so to another person it would probably taste beyond foul.

“I got rid of those flowers… I know how you can’t stand the smell mixed with hospital… I’m not sure if anyone really can… They’re still investigating what happened, but we’re pretty much all sure it was either a trap, or someone on the opposite side caught wind of Ruby spilling the beans… Sam’s happy to not have to be on desk duty alone for the next several weeks…” Dean grinned. “Sorry ‘bout that, by the way. Just try not to kill each other, all right?”

“Rachel?” Castiel asked, tiredly cutting in when he could. “Is she all right?”

Dean swallowed and flicked his gaze away. Castiel struggled to get closer, to latch on to Dean and twist him around, but the drugs he had in his system were the good ones and his body had the mobility of a beached whale at the moment, so his fingers fluttered useless inches off the bed.

Dean shook his head, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Eventually Dean said, “Cas… It wasn’t your fault.”

Castiel shut his eyes and didn’t even have the strength to stem the sudden burn of tears in his current state. They flooded out despite himself; a beginning like that could not bode well. “What happened?”

“It was just how you two fell… Sam told me the ME figured she had cracked her ribs in the initial blast when she was trying to escape, and when you went to shield her from the second blast, the concussion of it - and how you two were forced to land - um… split them… It was a freak incident just at the right angle to… Cas… it wasn’t your fault, okay? You guys just landed funny, you didn’t have enough time, and her rib pierced her heart. She died in seconds.”

Castiel nodded but didn’t say anything. The tears leaked out faster and made the pillow warm, damp, and uncomfortable at his cheek. Dean reached around. Castiel struggled weakly against the tenderness in the touch that he felt he didn’t deserve. Dean easily overpowered him and forced Castiel’s face around.

“Castiel, you open your eyes and look at me right now,” Dean commanded, low and deep and rough in that way he had that made everyone hear it sit up and listen. It was a tone that Dean had inherited from his father, and Castiel was helpless in the face of it, just as everyone else. Hazy blue eyes flickered open and laser green pierced down into them.

“Castiel, if you hadn’t tried, if you just let her go on her own, it would have killed her anyway, you hear me? She would be _dead anyway… But you tried, you tried_ to help to stop it, you took most of the blast… It was _just an accident_. You go blaming yourself for all the horrible freak accidents in the world and you’ll never see light again. All right?”

“Dean…” Castiel whispered. “Dean, it could have been Sam.” 

Castiel saw Dean’s jaw clench and release. 

“A sweet, innocent girl is dead, Dean, but it _could_ have been Sam. I almost killed Sam.”

“Castiel! Stop it, you haven’t killed anyone!” Dean growled. 

Castiel just gave Dean a steady look at that one, because Castiel knew precisely how many men and women he had killed. He kept track of every one, the time and date and name if he could get it. A description he would settle for if he could not. Woman in pink dress with basket, January 8th 2002 at 9:06 am. Man with AK-47 and torn trousers, May 6th 2005 at 6:01 pm. Allen T. Everett, August 17th 2010 at 11:54 pm… On and on it went, and now Special Agent Rachel White, October 28th, 2011 at 10:32 am.

“Castiel, it was all in the line of duty. It wasn’t on purpose, it wasn’t malicious. It was you doing your job. You following orders, and yes, innocent people get hurt too, and it’s awful and horrible, but you never, ever set out to kill anyone and you _did not_ kill Rachel, and you most certainly _did not_ nearly kill Sam. So stop it right now, or I put you right back under, you hear me?” Dean glowered down at the guilt-ridden man in the hospital bed.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

“Cas, you idiot,” Dean replied fondly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep, Babe.” 

And Castiel did.

xx

Against all medical advice, Castiel checked himself out of the hospital even though he was not due for release for several more days. Balthazar was handed a list of medications and the times necessary to take them. He was also handed instructions on how to change Castiel’s bandages and how to make sure the few deeper cuts healed properly. 

The worst one was on his head - which had required four stitches – and, of course, his broken collar bone. Castiel had been lucky that it fractured cleanly and no surgery would be required, though it hurting every time he even twitched his arm was a pain in the ass, and the sling felt awkward and constricting. He had the usual instruction for broken bones, keep the area elevated, don’t lie on it… so on and so on. Castiel declined to inform the pretty, perky nurse that he had broken bones a grand total of fifteen times and that this was nothing new. 

The nurse gave one more strict warning that Castiel was leaving against his doctor’s advice, and then he was free to go. Castiel was dumped unceremoniously into a wheel chair that was pushed by a male orderly, with Balthazar walking beside him and going over the medical bill again. 

“Balth, you don’t have to pay… the Bureau does offer health insurance, you know,” Castiel said, embarrassed.

“I hardly doubt they’re going to cover the cost of your private room and designer drugs, Cassy,” Balthazar remarked.

“I didn’t need those, though. Generic is fine, and I’m sure my roommate would have been lovely,” Castiel sighed. 

Balthazar snorted in response to that and merely tucked the medical bill away. 

The orderly pushed Castiel right up to the curb and then figuratively washed his hands of the injured FBI agent. With a curt, ‘have a nice day,’ the orderly turned and rolled the chair back into the building.

“I’m the older brother, Balthazar. I’m supposed to take care of you, not the other way around,” Castiel huffed.

“Well, lucky I’m not taking care of you, then. Now that the legalities are out of the way, I’m putting your bitchy arse in the far more capable hands of your boy-toy,” Balthazar grinned. 

It was policy that a direct family member had to take responsibility for any patient that chose to discharge themselves early. As Dean currently had no legal grounds, Castiel was unable to use him as next-of-kin on his medical forms, even if he could be used as emergency contact. Balthazar had been more than willing to jump the hoops with Castiel, though, and even more willing to pass the buck as soon as he was able.

An anxious Dean pulled the Impala up to the curb where Castiel had been dropped like a hot potato by the orderly. Dean clambered out and fell into full mother-hen hovering mode. Castiel groaned.

“Balth, I changed my mind, I wanna go home with you,” Castiel said to his little brother.

The British man chortled. “Oh, Cassy! Such a joker! Now, be a good little invalid and go to your boyfriend.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Castiel snapped.

“Here, sign your name.” Balthazar moved to hand Castiel a piece of paper and a pen, which Castiel reached for automatically and gasped as searing pain rocketed through his clavicle.

“Ass,” Castiel gasped.

“Prat. Now shoo, I’ve seen quite enough of you lately and I really need some me time.” Balthazar turned to the green-eyed man and handed over the packet of papers. “Dean, here’s the schedule for his meds, and instructions to change the dressing on his wounds. Good luck, Mate, I know you’re gonna need it with this one. Castiel is the worst patient this side of the Atlantic.”

Dean grinned. “I know. Thanks, Balth, for doing all this for us.”

“Hey, don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours. Castiel is one of my favourite people, and most certainly my favourite brother. He may be a giant git, but I love him… Just, ah… remember what we discussed?” Balthazar sent him a meaningful stare. 

Castiel shot both men a puzzled glance.

Dean flushed faintly. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Excellent,” Balthazar grinned. “Take care, Cassy. Pop one of those Oxys for me. Charming doctor you have to give you the good stuff.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Good-bye, Balthazar.”

The blond man huffed as he wandered away. “No gratitude, absolutely _no bloody gratitude_.”

“You’re a stupid ass!” Castiel called to his back.

“Fucking prat!” Balthazar called without turning, throwing the two-fingered English birdie over his shoulder.

“So cute how you say, ‘I love you’,” Dean teased.

“You’re the same with Sam,” Castiel smiled gently.

“Yeah, well, what can you say? It’s our prerogative as big brothers,” Dean grinned.

xx

Castiel groaned and wished fervently that he hadn’t been selfish enough to insist last week, that Dean take a week between ending his position at the public school and beginning his position at the academy. Castiel had insisted that a transition period before jumping in with both feet would allow Dean to gain perspective, rather than automatically comparing Dean’s Threes to the new group he’d be responsible for. Even though Castiel really just wanted an opportunity to spend some much-wanted alone time with his boyfriend before Dean would get wrapped up in his job. Again, selfish. Regardless of the reasons, though, the argument swayed Dean— eventually. Dean hated being away from the kids during the school year, but ultimately he conceded to Castiel’s point. Of course, that was before Castiel had gotten himself blown up, and was subjected to Dean’s hovering for the last two days… Good lord. It was only Tuesday. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, very quietly. Dean paused in fluffing Castiel’s pillow and adjusting his—wholly unnecessary— blanket.

“Do you need something, Cas?” Dean was quick to ask, already moving away as if getting a head start on whatever destination Castiel requested.

Castiel closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Dean…”

“Just tell me, whatever you need,” Dean prompted again, fidgeting nervously.

“Dean!” Still quiet, but more insistent, and Dean finally seemed to pick up on Castiel’s tone. 

Dean froze instantly and snapped his mouth shut.

“Dean, love, sweetheart, light of my life,” Castiel’s voice was positively saccharine. 

Dean expression fluctuated from being concerned, to confused, to angry, to mystified, to concerned again, and then to just plain puzzled. 

Castiel fought the twitch of a smile that threatened as Dean rolled through each phase.

“Dean, darling, I love and adore you, and yes, occasionally I do think that rainbows shine out of your ass. But please, for the love of all that is sweet and holy, get the hell out and leave me alone before I murder you in your sleep. And trust me, Love, I could get away with it,” the words were harsh, but the tone was matter-of-fact, which the older man prided himself in, as his frustration had gradually been mounting for the last four days. He was never good with people coddling him and Dean was a World Record holder in coddling, even if he would never admit it on pain of death.

Dean blushed faintly, then shook his head. “You’re such a dick sometimes, but okay, _maybe_ I’ve been overdoing it a _little_.” 

That statement earned Dean a pointed eyebrow quirk from Castiel.

“Okay, so more than a little. Give me a minute to make some calls and see who can entertain me and then I’ll let you be. _But_ I’m only going to be gone a few hours. Clear?”

“Clear,” Castiel nodded enthusiastically, “and thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean stuck his tongue out at Castiel, and Castiel just grinned.

xx

“So he kicked you out,” Sam repeated. 

Dean was sitting at a tall round table at a local bar with his brother, Balthazar, and Gabriel.

“No, he just wanted some time for himself for awhile. I mean, we _have_ been around each other constantly. He’s not used to it,” Dean said defensively.

“Man, he kicked you out,” Gabriel grinned.

“I have to agree with Hubby on this one, Deano. Cassy very much kicked your heavenly arse to the path, as it were,” Balthazar nodded sagely.

Dean twisted his water glass around the table before rolling his eyes and conceding. “All right, maybe he did… But he was… well not _polite_ about it, but he wasn’t mean about it.”

“Which means he was a snarky little bastard,” Balthazar translated. 

Dean grinned. “Though he did finally admit that he thinks rainbows shine out of my ass.” 

Balthazar broke into uproarious laughter at that one and was joined by Sam and Gabriel, who were more reserved about it.

Their waitress sidled over then and fluttered her heavily made-up eyes at Dean. “Want anything else there, Sweetie-Pie? Something a little stronger than water, maybe?”

“Coke, please,” Dean smiled winningly. 

Their waitress looked confused, but shrugged and wandered away.

“No, it’s all right, I don’t want another beer, thanks,” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Dean, what is it with you and women? When you’re around, none of us exist.”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not like I try. It’s not as bad as it is with Cas, though, women gravitate towards him as if he’s a pair of Jimmy Choos.”

Gabriel snorted. “You’re so gay.”

Dean stuck his tongue out at the smaller man. “Look who’s talking, Mariah.”

“Please, I’m Cher, hands down.”

“How do you even know that shoe thing?” Sam blinked.

“Remember Bianca?” Dean flashed a grin.

“Ah,” Sam nodded.

“Bianca?” Balthazar blinked.

“Yeah, some society chick Dean dated at MIT. She was his Sugar-Mama for, what was it, a month? Before they split,” Sam explained.

“Three weeks,” Dean corrected mildly. “She used to drag me shopping with her everywhere. We flew out to New York a few times. Great lay, despite the annoying habit of trying to turn me metro-sexual.”

“So you decided to just go homo instead?” Gabriel teased.

“Bi all the way, baby… Though I’m a one-guy… ah… guy now,” Dean puzzled for a moment over his own sentence, then shrugged it off. It worked.

“Wait… you _flew_ from Boston to New York? That’s only, what, a five-hour drive?” Balthazar frowned.

“Four, and look who’s talking… You have a private jet… you fly places all the time.”

“I don’t fly what would only be a four-hour drive,” Balthazar frowned. “Unless it’s an emergency… Oh well, doesn’t matter. When are you going to ask Cassy to marry you?’

“Wow, you suck with segues,” Sam remarked.

“Subtlety has never been my forte. Now answer, Winchester,” Balthazar demanded.

Dean snorted. “I have to agree there, you’re about as subtle as a fog horn in the Arctic. And I’m _gonna_ ask… I just… don’t know when. I dunno… what if he gets pissed over being the chick?”

Sam, Gabriel, and Balthazar could only give Dean blank stares for that comment.

“Dean,” Gabriel said patronizingly, “you know Cassy better than anyone. Do you really think he’d get offended because you popped the question and not him? It’s not like you guys have an established seme/uke in your relationship.”

“First, how the hell would you know? And second, enough gay Japanese cartoon porn for you,” Dean declared.

“You know what it means, which means you watch it too!” Gabriel crowed. 

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Cassy told Anna, Anna told me, and I told Gabriel, that’s how we know,” Balthazar grinned.

Sam groaned. “Why do you guys have to have these conversations when I’m around? I mean… ew… brother-sex.”

“Why would Cas tell Anna, and why on earth would Anna tell you?” Dean blinked.

“Cas has told Anna every one of his dirty little secrets since they were kids, apparently, and Anna would lap it up greedily. You know she’s one of his best friends. Anna told me because she knows I’m a curious little bugger, and that girl can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

“I’m just a little bugger,” Gabriel waggled his brows suggestively. That invoked another series of groans all around.

“Also, Sweet Dean, you have neatly side-stepped my question, which I will never forgive you for. When are you going to ask my little-big-brother to marry you?” Balthazar demanded once again.  
“Yeah, Dean, come on, I’ve been hounding you about it for, like, two and half years,” Sam jumped in. “So when is it happening?” 

Dean blushed, and was grateful when the waitress brought his Coke. He took a long swallow, then promptly changed the subject when he finished. 

“Did you talk to Balth about the house hunt yet, Sam?” Dean grinned. 

Sam shot wide, panicked eyes at his brother, and they had a clear _how could you_ , vibe to them. 

Balthazar leapt on Sam in the next second. 

Sometimes it was good being the big brother.

**End Chapter**


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I normally don't say this but I'm really pleased with this chapter. It's shorter, but this was one of those chapters that just wrote itself while I was working on it. It's also probably the sappiest thing you'll find in this fic but considering it's me and I'm allergic to sap there's some humour too. I really hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks to **Dapperscript** for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
> 
> Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information.

  


Dean came home to a quiet and dark apartment. It was unusual, but Cas was injured and Dean figured he had a right to be a little more tired than usual. The older man tended to be a bit of a night owl and usually Dean found himself turning in long before Castiel did. He moved quietly through the apartment, tidying up a little before heading to bed himself. He didn’t expect to see the blue-eyed man sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor, photos spread around him.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted gently.

Castiel jumped in surprise and winced as the movement jarred his collar bone.

“Sorry, Babe, didn’t mean to startle you.” Dean was generally incapable of startling Castiel, which had to mean the man was deep in thought about something. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said quietly.

“How’d you even get down there?” Dean asked, coming over to sit next to Castiel, careful not to step on any of the pictures.

“Getting down was the easy part. It’s the coming back up part I didn’t think through,” Castiel said wryly. “Which is why I’ve been stationary for the last two hours.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s all right, I knew you’d be home eventually.”

“So why the sudden walk down memory lane?” Dean asked as he shifted through some of the photos. 

It seemed to be an equal mesh of Castiel’s unit and both their families. Currently, Castiel was gazing fondly at an image of Jess, Sam, and Dean bowling. Jess was just about to take her turn and had the big ten pin ball between her knees. Dean was laughing off to the side and Sam was valiantly fighting the smirk that threatened to curl his lips as he coached Jess through the proper technique. 

In Castiel’s other hand was a picture of him and Balthazar. Castiel had his ironic grin firmly in place while Balthazar looked overly serious, and they were gazing intently at each other; whatever Balthazar was trying to argue, it was clear that he was losing spectacularly. Dean remembered when both photos were taken. 

Dean picked up another picture of a group of serious young men in fatigues, gazing at the camera. Castiel stood off to the side in the photo, looking stern and commanding.

“That was just before my second tour. Some of the guys were familiar, most were new. It was my first time being in charge of anything. I’m afraid I took it far too seriously,” Castiel explained. “I was never really comfortable with being in charge.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, Cas,” Dean remarked, flipping through more of the squad photos Castiel had scattered around. Some were casual, some weren’t. One was of Castiel laughing with another man at his side around a campfire. They had a flask between them and were covered in dust. Dean felt a strange surge of jealousy when he saw the photo and pushed it aside.

“A combination of things, really. One…” Castiel gestured to his sling, “this. Also…” The older man reached over and snagged a folded letter by the corner, sliding it over to Dean. Dean whistled when he saw the seal at the top and skimmed through the contents.

“Cas, this is…” Dean murmured, looking with wide, aghast eyes at his partner.

“Yes,” Castiel nodded.

“But…” Dean’s gaze shot back down at the letter, then over at Castiel again. “You… you’re retired.”

Castiel sighed, “You never really retire, Dean.”

“Sergeant First Class? You aren’t that, are you?”

“If I agreed to the mission, I would be.”

“So the new gig would come with a hefty promotion, then?”

“Looks that way.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“I’m telling you now… I only found out yesterday.”

“Oh,” Dean mused, tone turning frosty. “This why you wanted me out of the house, then? So you could make your decision?”

“Dean,” Castiel scooted around, narrowing his eyes. “It isn’t like that.”

“So, what, this whole thing we have is nothing, then? You’re just gonna run off to a warzone when the call sounds?”

“Dean, would you listen? I’m not taking it.”

“I mean I get how much they meant to you, Cas. They were there when you didn’t have anything; that whole brothers-in-arms bullshit I can’t hope to understand. I’m just a school teacher, after all. But I dunno, I thought maybe—Wait, what did you say?”

“I’m not going, Dean.”

“What? Why?”

“Jesus Christ,” Castiel cursed. “You’re something else.” 

Castiel made a move to get up and storm out, but his collar bone protested loudly and his body ached from sitting on the floor for so long. Plus, his head was starting to take on that cotton-like feel, since he was a little overdue for his meds and a headache was verging. He settled for slumping over and angrily tossing his pictures aside.

Dean looked as if he wanted to finish the argument, or continue it, but he snapped his mouth shut and grumbled to himself about moronic ex-soldiers. He pushed himself up and gently helped Castiel to his feet, guiding the older man over to sit on the edge of the bed, before he left the room. 

Castiel was surprised when Dean returned with a water glass and a handful of pills.

“You forgot, didn’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I didn’t forget… I was merely… stuck,” Castiel retorted lamely, flushing slightly and looking away. He took the pills and swallowed them with the water. Dean took the glass without a word and set it on one of their side tables, next to their bed, in their room, in their apartment – Their life. 

Not just Castiel anymore. Castiel and Dean. Dean and Castiel. Castiel was no longer a mere ‘me,’ he was a ‘we’ and an ‘us’ and a ‘them.’ Even after three years, it was still taking some getting used to. 

Castiel had been on his own for thirty-three years before he met Dean, and suddenly he didn’t have to be on his own any longer. He had to think about more people in his life and that’s why he wasn’t taking the position. That’s why he was staying here, because the thought of leaving and possibly losing Dean struck him more than any call to arms to help defend his people and his country. He felt vaguely guilty about that. A brief moment flashed through his mind where he thought maybe he should take it. The men could use his expertise over there. It was a training mission after all, and what was the use of having knowledge if there was no one to pass it along to? The minute he thought that, however, panic struck.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed out, reaching over and taking the green-eyed man’s hands.

“Cas?” Dean asked, moving his eyes restlessly over Castiel’s face, trying to read the expression there.

“Dean… I—” Suddenly, it was hard to breathe, the sling was too tight, and he wasn’t at all sure what he was doing, but he just had to. “Dean, marry me.”

Dean yanked his hands away and sat back. “What?”

Castiel’s stomach sank, slow and heavy, a burning, roiling sickness as he saw the startled expression flash over Dean’s face. Castiel mentally cursed himself and fought the strange burning behind his eyes. He _knew_ it was a bad idea. Dean wasn’t the marrying type. Castiel swallowed and turned away.

“I see, I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t have—” Suddenly, Castiel found his words cut off by a pair of lips against his own and a firm, heavy body pushing him down and settling over him. Despite himself, Castiel cried out at the pain and Dean pulled away, looking immensely guilty.

“Fuck, Cas, I’m so, so sorry. I was just… Shit. Are you okay? Do you need anything? My god, I’m an idiot,” Dean babbled on and slipped right back into mother-hen mode. 

Dean gently eased Castiel up and against the pillows, straightening his sling and brushing loose bangs away from the bandage on the former-soldier’s forehead. Castiel laughed; it hurt like hell, but he laughed a deep from-the-gut laugh, like he hadn’t in far too long, and Dean looked at him as if he had gone insane. Maybe he had.

“Cas?” 

Castiel waved the worry off and just hunched over with a hand pressed against his collar bone, his guffaws settling into chuckles, before he shook his head at himself and the situation.

“That really was not how I wanted that to go,” Castiel remarked very suddenly.

“Wanted that to go?” Dean parroted, still giving Castiel a look of concern, with a little bit of trepidation mixed in.

“I had a big, romantic gesture planned and I was completely whole and functional, and it certainly was not going to be on the tail end of a damn argument,” Castiel elaborated. “I just… I don’t know what – I just thought of being without you, and the thought terrified me and it just came out.”

Dean shrunk in on himself and flicked his eyes away. “So you didn’t mean it?”

“What? No!” Castiel exclaimed. 

Dean’s expression turned blank and he nodded stiffly, lips pressed in a thin line as he slid off of the bed. Castiel lunged after him with his bad arm and whimpered but managed to snag Dean.

“Dean! Stop assuming and storming off! You do that all the damn time! I meant _no_ , of _course_ I meant it. I’ve been thinking about it for months but it never seemed like the right time! And maybe now isn’t the best time either, but I almost fucking died, and you were so hurt about the fucking summons, and I just… Dean… Dean marry me.”

“What, is that an order, _Sir_?” Dean drawled sarcastically, but his lips were twitching.

Castiel felt his own lips twitch and he nodded, once. “You know what? Yes, yes it is. Dean Winchester, you are going to marry me. Got it?”

“Well… I can’t say no to that,” Dean sat back on the bed and gently cupped Castiel’s face in his palm. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Fuck… did we just get engaged?” Dean mused, eyes wide as he blinked in the dim light.

Castiel chuckled, “I think so.”

“Our brothers are going to be _fucking ecstatic_.”

“They’ve been after you too, huh?”

“Everyday, I was actually planning on asking you soon. I know you probably aren’t surprised about it, but yeah… I was. I just… Wasn’t sure if you’d want it, you know? But the whole hospital bullshit, and Sam and Jess, and then this crazy adventure you two have me going on, and the risks and everything. I just… It’s been hitting harder. So luckily, I’m prepared,” Dean grinned.

“Prepared?” Castiel narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t get me some stupid diamond ring or something, did you?”

Dean chuckled, “No. But it is a ring.” Dean slipped the silver ring from his right hand and held it between thumb and forefinger. 

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Dean! That’s…”

“I know I never take this thing off. You know the story behind it; you know it belonged to my grandfather but I got it from my grandmother, who wore it around her neck every moment since my grandfather died. You know she gave it to me when I was sixteen and she was dying, and I was more messed up by life than any of us want to remember, and you know I consider this the thing that saved me. 

“She told me it was a good luck charm, that this ring incited the happiest moment of hers and my grandfather’s lives because it’s this ring that brought them together and gave them my mom and Sam and I. It’s this ring that pulled me out and made me someone who was… Maybe not worthy, necessarily, but maybe slightly good enough to be with you. So I figured it only fitting, if I want to keep you permanently, I use this to do that. I’m gonna get you a proper ring for when we get married, but this is my promise, okay?”

“Dean,” Castiel whispered.

“You aren’t arguing your way out of this one, Cas,” Dean grinned. “So, you want to do this thing, you’re taking it. All right?”

“Do this thing… Holy shit, we’re engaged…” Castiel blinked.

Dean chuckled, “I thought we just went over that.”

“I know, but I didn’t… I don’t know… I guess I just always assumed this wasn’t something we would do. I wanted to, but…”

“I know what you mean…” Dean smiled gently for a moment before he let out a huff. “Now take the ring.”

Castiel reached out for it, but stopped. “I did the asking, I’m supposed to give _you_ something.”

“Yeah, well, you may have been the soldier, but I was the Boy Scout,” Dean winked.

Castiel snorted, “You were never a Boy Scout, unless they taught you how to break and enter and hotwire cars, along with knot tying and building campfires out of leaves and spit.”

Dean made a face. “Ew, and that would never work… But okay, I wasn’t a Boy Scout, my _point_ is, I’m the one prepared, so you don’t worry about it - and take the fucking ring, already.”

“Hey, I never said I wasn’t prepared!” Castiel protested. He took a deep breath and reached up to undo the clasp of his white-gold necklace, but was hindered almost immediately. “Damnit.”

“Cas…?” Dean asked suspiciously.

“I’ve thought about this, too, and thought about what I would do if you said yes. I know that despite the ring and the amulet, you aren’t really a jewellery guy, and they have meaning to them, which is why you wear them. So the thought of getting you another ring, only to get you another one later on seemed woefully redundant. I wanted to give you something that meant something to me, as much as you mean to me, and I only really have one thing that means that much to me.”

“I’m not taking your necklace, Cas,” Dean protested instantly, shaking his head in adamant refusal. “Your squad gave you that! That symbolises the reason you aren’t dead; I’m not taking it from you.”

“Dean,” Castiel was just as insistent as Dean had been earlier. “I haven’t taken this off since the moment they gave it to me. That’s true, and yes, this does symbolize one of the most frightening and most humbling experiences of my life, but it also means hope to me. All because of some silly little gift from Anna, I’m here today, and this feather reminds me of that. I’m here today and I can be with you, so I want my reminder somewhere where I can gaze at it every day and thank God for each moment that I can stand here with you. This is ridiculously sentimental…” Castiel grimaced. 

Dean chuckled, “What have we turned each other into?”

“Take the damn necklace and I’ll take the damn ring, and then we can forget this whole moment ever happened, then we’ll tell our families this monumental decision and bravely endure the squeals of joy and delight that are sure to follow.”

“Agreed,” Dean said solemnly. 

Despite it all, though, Dean insisted on slipping the ring on Castiel’s left ring finger, and Castiel leaned forward silently as Dean reverently unclasped the necklace and slipped it around his own neck.

“Are we done now?” Castiel drawled.

“God, yes,” Dean breathed. Then, simultaneously, matching goofy grins split their faces, still unable to believe what they had just done. 

xx

“That has got to be the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard,” Jess remarked flatly.

Dean blushed. “It’s not a big deal. We don’t do romance anyway. We don’t have vaginas.”

“Neither does your brother, but he does romance just fine,” Jess pointed out.

“Well, Sam’s a pussy,” Dean snorted. 

Sam rolled his eyes.

“We were uncomfortable enough as it was. I think if I’d bought a dozen roses and went down on one knee over a candlelit dinner, we would have keeled over,” Castiel said over the rim of his coffee cup.

“Yeah, I was planning to pop the question over beer and wings on Wednesday night,” Dean said.

Castiel grinned. “That would have been nice.”

“I know, right?” Dean grinned back.

“You two are too cute,” Sam snorted. “It’s making me sick.”

“Shut up, Samantha, I used to listen to you wax poetic for hours about Jess, here,” Dean kicked Sam under the table.

“Ow,” Sam shot back, then smiled. “Oh well, I’m just glad one of you finally manned up. Should have figured it would’ve been Cas. Now I owe Gabe fifty bucks.”

“You were betting on us?!” Dean exclaimed.

“Basically since day one, yeah,” Sam replied.

“Why should you have assumed that it would be me?”

“Because of Dean’s massive commitment-phobia. When he told me you two were moving in together, I thought he had been replaced by a pod person,” Sam explained with a grin.

“Shuddup,” the older brother muttered. “Well, it’s done, so you guys can stop bugging us about it.”

“Well, we’re very happy for you,” Jess beamed. “But I have to get back to work, so you three can discuss your secret FBI stuff.” The girl stood and dropped a kiss on each of their cheeks before skipping out of the café with a happy grin and a wave. 

Sam stared after her for a full minute with a dopy grin on his face.

“So, when’s she due?” Dean asked, completely casual.

“May,” Sam replied absently, then whipped his head around, his green eyes wide. “Shit.”

Dean crowed triumphantly, “Ah ha! Finally! Good job, Sammy!” Dean shook his brother’s shoulder and the younger Winchester blushed, before turning his panicked eyes on Dean.

“Don’t let Jess know that you know. She was planning on telling everyone on Thanksgiving!” Sam leaned forward as he insisted.

“Dude, hate to break it to you, but everyone _already_ knows. We were just waiting for you two to admit it,” Dean snorted.

“Sorry to say he’s right, Sam. Though we’ll keep your secret,” Castiel offered sympathetically.

“How did you guys know?” Sam asked. “I thought we were being so careful about it.”

“Mom’s mom, and Cas has five nieces and nephews,” Dean pointed out. “No worries, Sammy. You guys are doing good. You just have the bad luck of being surrounded by ridiculously observant people.”

“Well I know _you’re_ not one of them,” Sam grinned. 

Dean shoved him with a grin of his own.

**End Chapter**


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my wonderful beta **Dapperscript**!

  


Castiel was fretting and he hated it. Castiel didn’t fret, he left fretting to those who were weak-minded and weak-willed. Castiel planned and plotted and observed and _did_ , he did _not_ fret and stress and worry.

“Dude, would you relax? It’s a _school_. I’ve been in them my entire life. I have no idea what you think could possibly go wrong.”

“Don’t say that,” Castiel hissed, then looked around as if Dean had called down the very wrath of Heaven itself.

“Man, what’s with you? You okay, Cas? This really isn’t like you.” Dean was all sympathy instantly as he moved up into Castiel’s personal space and cupped his stubbled jaw in a callused hand. 

Castiel leaned into the warmth and let out a shaky breath through his nose. “I’m sorry,” Castel whispered. “I suppose I’m still a little raw from the whole getting blown-up thing. Maybe some weird PTSD or something.”

“Hey, you know as well as I do… okay _better_ than I do, that that’s not something to be taken lightly. You talk to Gabe?” Dean frowned, completely serious.

Castiel huffed, “Dean, I don’t have PTSD… I’m all right, I just—” Castiel cut himself off abruptly, sucked in a breath, firm and sharp, steeled his gaze over and locked blue on green. Dean started a little and blinked before settling into acceptance of Castiel’s familiar stoicism. 

“I’m perfectly well,” Castiel said again, more insistently.

“Okay,” Dean said, a little uncertain but willing. After all he was kind of great right now. He was going to be an uncle, and now he had the official word straight from the… well half the horse, he supposed, so he labeled Sammy the horse’s ass immediately. He was fucking engaged, to an amazing man who was way too good for him, which was really, really awesome but utterly terrifying all at once. Not to mention he was going to help people. 

Yeah, it sucked that he had to leave his kids, but he’d be back soon enough, he was sure, and in the meantime he’d get to meet a whole other, probably equally fantastic group of kids. It would be a growing experience, or whatever. Yes, Castiel’s weird attitude was unsettling but he _was_ Castiel. So Dean would accept what the older man said. For one, because Castiel was just weird in general, which Dean had been fully aware of from day one and had made no moves to change. 

Not to mention, Castiel had been a pinnacle in Dean’s life of strength, virtue, righteousness, and seemingly limitlessness, for the past three years. Dean had never once wavered from his complete faith and trust in Castiel because he was just that _good_. And sure, maybe Dean still retrained some of that hero-worship of a 29 year old kid who stumbled into a bar with his little brother and met a former soldier and FBI agent. Dean figured he was allowed considering he was marrying the guy. So if Castiel said he was good, Dean would take it at face value and stomp viciously down on the niggling in his gut that something was wrong.

“You guys didn’t have to come with me, you know,” Dean remarked, stepping back.

Castiel huffed and rolled his eyes. “Dean, of course we did. Any other agent going undercover would have backup the first day.”

“No offence, but you two are kind of useless right now. You can’t run and Sammy can’t shoot,” Dean gave his fiancé a critical once over. “You were unconscious and in the hospital not even a week ago.”

“Ellen suspects there will be no problems, but in the event that there are, we have a back-up unit not that far from here.”

“So my backup needs backup? That’s reassuring,” Dean teased.

“Don’t be an ass,” Castiel glared, but a grin quirked his lips.

Sam shouldered open the door of the small faculty apartment that Dean had been given for the duration of his stay at the Academy. Due to the secluded location of the school, they had housing for both staff and students and it was customary for all faculty members to be assigned one. Dean figured he’d only be here once and a while, home was only an hour and a half drive away.

“Breakfast,” Sam managed by way of greeting, holding a white take-out bag in his teeth and a tray of coffees in his one good hand.

“Oh thank God,” Castiel said, hurrying over to relieve Sam of his burden. The blue-eyed man hadn’t seen this hour of the morning since his last stake-out, which was nearly a year ago now.

Sam chuckled and switched the bag to his recently vacated hand. “So we good to go?”

“Once I get caffeinated and fed,” Dean nodded, taking the coffee marked black out of the tray and fishing around the bag he snatched from Sam for his awaiting breakfast sandwich. He scowled at the oatmeal and fruit cup, tossing those to his bizarre little brother. 

Castiel edged away from Sam when he caught sight of the pineapple in the plastic bowl and glared. “If any of that leaked onto my food and I suffocate to death, it’s on you,” the blue-eyed man remarked. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Cas, they’ve double wrapped your muffin. No allergic reactions on my watch. I don’t think my brother would ever forgive me if his boy-toy was killed by tropical fruit.”

“Damn right, I wouldn’t,” Dean nodded. He took Castiel’s muffin out and unwrapped it himself just to be safe, handing it to Castiel. 

Castiel sidled around Dean and used him as a shield from the evil fruit, despite Sam’s assurances, and hesitantly inspected his carrot muffin before taking a bite. He chewed hastily, but when no tingling and subsequent swelling began, he relaxed. 

They sat around in Dean’s small but well-appointed apartment, sipping coffees and merely content in each other’s presence. Despite his protests, Dean appreciated that they were both here for this. It was nice to know that they were only a building away if Dean needed anything, or his anxiety spiked. He knew they were watching him, and tried to quell the urge to straighten the wrappers on the coffee table or pick up a pillow that had tumbled to the floor. The wrappers he could resist, but the pillow was proving a worthy adversary. 

Castiel flicked his gaze over and casually put the pillow back on the chair it tumbled from. Dean’s shoulders relaxed fractionally.

“You’re sure you’re ready?” Sam asked, darting his gaze over his brother’s features, looking for any of the telltale signs he learned to read nearly thirty years ago. Castiel did the same, but his experience didn’t date back nearly as long. Both, however, were satisfied that Dean seemed as relaxed as he was going to be and the partners shared a glance of confirmation between them.

“Too late not to be,” Dean stood, cleaning up the small living room and carrying the breakfast refuse over to the trash bin. He came back with a dishcloth and wiped the coffee table down before neatly draping it over the sink and turning back. 

“Either of you seen my tie? I have to meet with the headmaster in fifteen minutes.”

Castiel and Sam both gave the man between them a blank look. Where else would Dean Winchester’s tie be except exactly where it was _supposed_ to be? Dean grinned and walked over to the little closet, pulling the neatly rolled silk from the small shelf and laying it across his shoulders. He made quick work of the full Windsor and paused to glance at himself in the mirror. Well-fitted charcoal grey suit, neatly pressed white dress shirt, and pale green tie. He fluffed his hair once and turned back to his fiancé and brother.

“All right, let’s do this thing. I’ll see you guys later, don’t destroy the place while I’m gone,” Dean grinned. He slipped into his shoes and grabbed his soft leather satchel, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Good luck,” Castiel said gently.

“Knock ‘em dead,” Sam grinned.

With a jaunty wave, Dean scooted out of the apartment and made his way down the hall. He briefly considered the elevator, but was in no mood to ride in small confined metal boxes right now and headed for the stairs instead. The building only had four floors and his apartment was on the third, after all. 

He crossed the quad and headed to the building that housed the faculty offices and the Headmaster’s apartment. The Headmaster was going to meet him in the lobby of the building and show him around the school before the classes began in an hour. 

For the most part, it was like any other elementary school, where students stayed in one room for the majority of the day, only going out for any specialty classes or their teacher’s prep period. Dean wasn’t so lucky as to score his prep adjacent to lunch hour at this school and had to resign himself to second period when the children were off in music class. 

The only difference, really, between the Academy and a public school, was the budget. The children were not just taught music by some guy who maybe or maybe hadn’t majored in it; they were taught by a _world renowned composer_. They had the best equipment, the best books, the best materials, and the best rooms. Each was dressed like an odd little Stepford clone, in his or her green, grey, and black uniforms, with shoes that probably cost more than Dean’s entire salary for a year at his old school.

In his initial walk through, Dean had seen a few of the older kids writing with silver pens in leather bound notebooks, and those who weren’t keen on the more traditional methods all had individual iPads out in front of them. Cellphones and music players attached to many ears as well, strange little futuristic things that cost way more than Dean wanted to think about. He, however, could handle this. He was a professional after all.

“Mr. Dean Winchester! Pleasure to see you again!” a clean-shaven elderly man with twinkling eyes and hair grayed to white greeted him pleasantly. He was rail thin, and his skin looked like paper, but he had strength under all the gossamer and Dean had liked him instantly.

“Headmaster Cole, a pleasure,” Dean answered, holding out a hand. Headmaster Eldrich Cole shook it easily, deceptively delicate looking grip firm and almost hard around Dean’s.

“Ready to begin?” the Headmaster asked jovially.

“I’ll admit I’m a little nervous, but very excited for the opportunity,” Dean replied honestly; he found no reason to lie. The older man seemed to appreciate the younger’s candour and nodded with a small smile.

“Excellent! Well, first things first.” Cole reached into the manila envelope he carried and dug around until he pulled out two cards, one plain white plastic on a lanyard, and the other was a badge with Dean’s photograph and name on it, a magnetic strip along the back a clip at the top.

“The plain white one is your key card,” the Headmaster nodded to the various black boxes at almost every doorway with red lights blazing out at Dean. “The other is, of course, your identification and also your access to both your office and the computer network. You already have your apartment key… Hmm… Left in the envelope is your confidentiality agreement and our school rules and regulations, as well as an events calendar. 

“We’ve many social events, for staff, students, and families. We believe it is very important to foster a sense of community in our classrooms and encourage strong bonds and friendships amongst our students. One of my favourite events is the Holiday Ball which we hold annually, just before the end of term. It’s always a joy, full sit-down dinner, presents and various activities and games. The children adore it. Do you have any children?”

Dean answered lowly, “No, Sir, I don’t.” The Headmaster spared him a brief puzzled look but Dean was glad the man didn’t press.

“We support many alternate lifestyles here which is part of our draw… So if you have any issues with that I suggest you get over them, or get out,” the Headmaster said, his previously twinkling eyes now flashing stern and serious.

“Won’t be a problem,” Dean smiled, genuine and polite.

“Glad to hear it,” the Headmaster nodded. “You have free reign to decorate your classroom however you see fit, as long as it isn’t dangerous; just be sure you run it by me before proceeding. Generally I won’t say no, and we do offer a certain stipend for teachers who wish to decorate their classrooms to personal taste. We believe it is important for staff and students to feel comfortable and at home in their classes and recognize that personal enhancements can often foster this. Can you think of anything you require as of now?”

Dean thought for a moment before replying, “All I really need is a comfortable carpeted area and lots of natural light.”

“Done and done,” the headmaster nodded. “The rooms all have large windows as it is. Pick out which carpet you would like and I’ll have someone install it for you. All the flooring is hardwood, so for now you can use the mats we have in the gymnasium, or I can have some pillows brought in for you.”

“Pillows would be great for later too,” Dean nodded. 

“Very well. Your room is 32A, Mr. Winchester, all of the classrooms are equipped with the latest in SMART Board technology, several computer stations, a personal laptop for you, preloaded with all the software our school uses, which requires your Identification card to access. Whiteboards, projectors, DocCams, and of course curriculum dictated resources and learning materials. 

“Again, as I said, if there is anything you may require during your time with us, just let me or your department head know and we’ll do our utmost to get it for you. Once you get settled, we will work out the various scheduled tasks we’ll need you to undertake. Study hall monitoring and yard duty and whatnot. Basic things, really. 

“Students arrive in forty-five minutes, Mr. Winchester. I invite you to take your time getting comfortable in your new classroom. Staff room is down the hall to the right, and I must say we have an excellent café if you enjoy a coffee or tea. Any questions?”

Dean wanted to blurt out, ‘You have your own café?’ but kept it inside and merely shook his head. He thanked the Headmaster and silently wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

xx

To say Dean was nervous was kind of an understatement. They were just kids, just fifteen, eight-year-old kids. Hell, that was half the number that he normally taught in a day. It should be a breeze. So what if they all made more in an hour than he did in a day? Dean swallowed deeply and waited for the bell to ring.

A knock on the door had Dean starting and looking away from the SMART Board. He had been admittedly playing on it to pass the time and was hoping he didn’t have a puddle of drool at his feet. When Dean turned, it was to see a tall man, slender, thin-framed glasses perched on an aquiline nose, brown hair and blue eyes.

“Hey,” Dean began.

“Hello Mister Winchester, I felt it prudent to introduce myself before you begin. My name is Alec Kruschev. I’m the Primary Stream Department Head at the Academy, and I apologize for being unable to greet you sooner.” The man smiled widely and held out a hand as he strode confidently forwards. He had a strange accent that held a hint of English undertones, but it seemed to flicker in and out depending on word choice.

“Oh! Hello!” Dean greeted his new boss. “Please, Mr. Kruschev, call me Dean.”

“I must insist you call me Alec, if that is the case. If you need anything, Dean, please feel free to come see me at any time.” The man flashed another smile, white teeth and sparking eyes and Dean couldn’t help but notice he was good looking, in that young professor, nerdy kind of way. He felt a little guilty the moment he thought it, but he always had a bit of a weakness for sexy nerds.

When the bell did ring, it startled Dean again. It was an old school copper thing that reverberated right down to Dean’s bones and he looked up with surprise at the ceiling.

“Ah ha! To the day, then. I look forward to speaking to you more, Dean. Good luck today.” 

“Ah, yeah, thanks, Alec,” Dean nodded. 

Alec smiled and turned back to the door and Dean was about to go back to his SMART Board when the man paused and chuckled low and kind of husky, half turning over his shoulder, “Oh, and do enjoy the SMART Board.” 

Dean found himself blushing and staring a little blankly at the vacated doorway. A few minutes later, he heard the hushed, excited whispers and tramping feet of just over a dozen mini-millionaires.

The first set of eyes he felt on him were prying and hazel with heavy brows and a stern, suspicious glare. Dean quirked a brow right back at the kid, who hurriedly looked away and skittered to his seat, putting down his leather knapsack beside his desk and staring resolutely at the whirls of the mahogany wood. 

Children trickled in, one after another, many open and curious, a few suspicious, and a remarkable amount shy. 

“Well, I see fifteen heads, which means you’re all here and accounted for. I’ll let you know right now, no fooling me with names, all right? I’m pretty good with putting faces to who they belong to, and the Headmaster gave me a cheat sheet,” Dean opened, brandishing a piece of paper with neatly gridded school photos and names typed beneath. “So good morning everyone. My name is Mr. Winchester and I’m excited to work with you for my time here. Let’s all come up to the front and grab a cushion. Desks are too formal for introductions.” 

The children seemed to hesitate as they stood, staring at Dean as if he was trying to trick them into misbehaving. Gradually, however, they each began to trickle over, taking various cushions at points around the room and Dean waited patiently from his chair at the front.

“All right, so let’s see… first things first. Amdeept Bahadar, Cynthia Blaine, Arwin Chatham, Eva Hinden, Tanner Lynn, Joey Marks, Peter Noel, Jayden Oudette, Jesse Turner…” Here Dean paused for just a moment and met the stern gaze of the first boy who had entered his classroom. The child’s eyes were just as suspicious, and he merely nodded at Dean to acknowledge his name being called. Dean nodded back. _Target acquired_. Dean finished his roll call and smiled down at his students.

“All right, so as you know, I’m Mister Winchester and now I almost know all of you. Anyone have something fun to share from last night?” 

Hands shot up eagerly and Dean settled back to get to know his students. As usual on the first day of school, it flew by as if no time had passed at all, and Dean took each moment he could to observe the mysterious Jesse Turner. 

He was a quiet boy and remarkably stern. Dean had seen similar behaviour in children who had relatively little time spent with their parents. When away from school, Dean imagined young Jesse was surrounded by maids and nannies. He had the imperious commanding air that only an overly privileged and wildly under-loved child could possess. Dean made a mental note to get a class set of _The Secret Garden_ for novel study. He imagined these children could use the exposure. 

xx

When Dean got home that evening, after greeting Castiel and Sam, he immediately called Andrea and spent an hour waxing poetic about his new classroom. Andrea spent the next after that coveting his SMART Board and DocCam, before they finally bid goodnight and Dean found himself on the receiving end of an angry glare from Castiel.

“Sorry, Babe,” Dean gave an abashed little smile. “I just figured you two wouldn’t want me to go on and on about stupid teacher stuff… And I just had to share, I mean, this classroom is like… like the Bently of classrooms or something. It’s a fucking dream come true is what it is. You know how much I’ve been pestering Missouri to get a SMART Board? I even offered to pay for half the damn thing. It’s an incredible teaching tool, you have no idea, I mean—Um… I’m gonna stop,” Dean sat abruptly down on the couch and stared at his toes, anxiously twisting his fingers on his lap.

Castiel sighed before coming across the room and sitting next to his fiancé. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, Dean, truly I am, but we really should discuss the case.”

“Right, you’re right. Jesse, smart kid…” Dean sat and nibbled his lip for a minute before flicking his gaze back up to Castiel. “He’s… troubled, I guess you could say. God, it feels so wrong talking about the kids like this…”

“Dean, please, this is for the best. I promise,” Castiel urged gently. “I know teachers do not make a habit of sharing personal information about their students outside their profession, but you’re here to do precisely that.”

“I know, Cas!” Dean’s green eyes flashed. “Just with so many years of the practice behind me, it’ll be hard to break. You don’t understand. We don’t just do it because we choose not to. We don’t do it because it’s against the code of fucking ethics… Just… just give me a minute.” Dean got up and stormed off to the bedroom. 

Sam watched him go, cookie paused halfway to his lips before he quirked a brow at Cas. “This might be tricky,” Sam remarked unnecessarily.

“Really, Sam, is that so?” Cas glared. “I hadn’t the faintest indication that this would be ‘tricky’. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Chill on the sarcasm, Dude, I got as much riding on this as you do,” Sam pouted, morosely munching his cookie, crumbs tumbled down and onto the beige carpet at his feet.

“You better clean that up before he gets back,” Castiel said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his good hand before pushing himself off of the couch and wandering over to the bookshelf. He just stood there, drumming at the wood with his fingers but not making a move to choose anything.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes.

xx

Dean was staring at the ceiling. He should have been asleep two hours ago, but it was proving remarkably elusive. He sighed and rubbed both hands quickly over his tired face before pushing the sheets and blankets away, shivering slightly in the cool room and snatching a hastily discarded hoodie to pull on over his t-shirt. 

He padded out of the room, and saw Castiel staring at his laptop, elbow resting on the armrest of the couch, one finger curled over his bottom lip as he skimmed down whatever it was that was fascinating him. The floor below Dean’s bare feet squeaked. 

Castiel turned a slow gaze towards him, his surprise showing in blue eyes. “Dean, why are you awake?”

Dean shrugged and shuffled over, slumping down on the couch next to Castiel, hands still buried in the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

“Yes, that’s terribly enlightening,” Castiel drawled, closing the laptop lid with a soft click and setting it on the coffee table. He winced as the move jarred his collarbone before he settled back with a shaky breath.

“You all right?” Dean asked, looking over at Castiel through the corner of his eye.

“I’ll live,” Castiel shrugged out of habit, then immediately regretted it.

“Jesus, Cas, you take your meds?” Dean asked.

“They make me tired, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes and got up, retrieving the pill bottle from the counter and shaking the correct dose out. He wandered back over and handed the pill to Castiel. The older man sighed, but took it and swallowed it down dry.

“Sam and I are heading back home tomorrow afternoon, will you be all right?” Castiel asked after a few moments of quiet.

“’Course,” Dean proclaimed easily.

“I’m going to require daily updates, Dean, you are aware of that.”

“Yes, Cas, I’m aware.”

“Will you manage it? I don’t relish telling Ellen that we made—”

“For Christ’s sake, Castiel! Give me some fucking credit here,” Dean snarled, pushing away from the couch and rounding on the somewhat startled man.

Cas winced again, this time not for the physical pain, but rather the use of his given name. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you should be. Look, I thought it over, all right? I know that’s why I’m here. Whatever I tell you will end up helping Jesse in the long run, I get it, okay? I’ve been mulling it over for the last two fucking hours. I dunno… I just feel like you two jumped right in on me and didn’t give me a chance to think. He’s a little boy, Cas. Not just another target.”

“I know, Dean, you’re right. He is an innocent in all this, caught in a bad situation. I’m sorry if you feel as if we were hasty,” Castiel acknowledged, but left out the part where they sat twiddling their thumbs for two hours while Dean talked on and on with Andrea. Mentioning that wouldn’t win him any points.

Dean nodded, stood for a moment longer, then sat back down. “What were you looking at?”

“Old files we have on Crowley and Lilith. Seeing if anything would be helpful – It wasn’t.”

“Oh.” Dean stared down at his hands before sliding his gaze over. “Jesse’s not happy.”

“Dean?” Cas asked carefully.

“Jesse, their son, he’s not happy. He’s so… cold. I guess. He doesn’t act like a normal eight-year-old at all. I mean, he’s really quiet and he’s ridiculously stern. He doesn’t spend any time with the other kids, not really. I assigned group work today and he just sat there staring down at the desk, like he’s used to being on his own.” Dean sighed, “No kid should be _used_ to being on their own, Cas. It just isn’t right.”

“Yes, I know,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean felt like an ass. “Sorry, Babe. I know you—”

“Dean, I really don’t want to talk about it again, if you don’t mind,” Castiel said coolly.

“Right. Sorry.” Dean bit his lip. “Jesse’s smart, like gifted smart. He’s never been tested, though, I checked. He just has such an… unerring understanding of what the world’s like, too, yanno? I asked about their parents, just a thing to do, and Jesse only said he had a father and a mother and didn’t elaborate. He just seemed so… sad.”

“So you don’t think he knows that much about his parents’ work, then?” Castiel asked, disappointed.

“Never said that,” Dean offered, “I think he knows a hell of a lot more than they’d like him to.”

“Good, then. That’s—” Castiel yawned, “good.”

“Yeah… sure,” Dean remarked despondently. “Anyway, bedtime, I think. Let’s go.”

Castiel nodded tiredly. “I told you those pills made me tired.”

“Yeah, well maybe that means you’ll actually sleep decent hours for a change,” Dean teased.

“I do,” Castiel tried for forceful but it came out kind of pathetic with his droopy eyes and staggering gait.

Dean chuckled, “No, you sleep like a cat.”

“…I like cats.”

“I know you do, Babe. Let’s go to sleep now.”

“We should get a cat…”

Dean snorted, and tucked Castiel into bed.

xx

Dean was staring down at Jesse like a particularly fascinating science experiment. The child had remained stock still for the last fifteen minutes, arms crossed over his chest, lips turned into a firm pout and test paper blank and untouched before him.

“Have to help me out here, Jesse. I know you know this stuff, so why refuse to do it?”

“Dad says I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to,” Jesse retorted.

“All right… I can understand that on an intellectual level, but why bother coming to school at all if that’s the case?” So yeah, Dean shouldn’t be encouraging truancy, but sometimes you had to play with the system to get the desired results.

Jesse suddenly became stony silent and turned his face away entirely, and Dean quirked a brow at that one. He reached forward to scoop up the untouched paper (that unfortunately he would have to grade anyway,) saying as he did so, “All right, well you can go to recess then, I gue—“

“No! Wait, I’ll do it, I’ll do it. I’ll stay behind if I have to,” Jesse slapped his hands down on the sheet, immediately halting the slide across the desk and Dean held his own up in surrender.

“If that’s what you want. You have the rest of recess and then I’ll need you to stay after class. Can’t take away class time.”

“Okay,” Jesse said quietly and picked up his pencil.

Dean frowned a little and wandered back to his desk, picking up a pencil and rapidly rocking it between his index and middle finger as he observed the enigma that was Jesse Turner. The boy didn’t seem to be hesitating at all as he went through the test. Not in the way that a child who just wanted to get it done, even if he didn’t know the material did, but in the way that indicated to Dean’s trained eye that Jesse knew exactly what he was doing, and should have had no problem finishing the test in the allotted time. So why not do that? Why refuse and pout and seemingly demand to get out of the testing, and then flip immediately the minute Dean suggested Jesse could go?

What was he afraid of?

xx

“He’s afraid, Cas,” Dean said abruptly as soon as the ringer clicked off and Castiel’s crisp voice answered.

“Dean?”

“Jesse. He’s afraid, he knows something, I think, or he thinks something is going to happen. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, he doesn’t play with the other kids, and he hates group work. It’s like he’s afraid to get close to anyone. The kids like him well enough, that really isn’t an issue at all. It’s him, Jesse. He’s holding back and keeping everyone at arm’s length.”

“All right,” Castiel began slowly and evenly, “have you asked him about this?”

“I can’t yet, that’s the thing. I’ve only been teaching for like two weeks, the kids are still getting to know me. I’ve tried really hard, I just… Jesse’s not buying what I’m selling, I guess. He’s such a bright kid. He knows exactly what’s going on around him. He just seems to choose to be separate from it… I’m going to keep trying, though, that’s all I can do and that’s what I _want_ to do.”

“Good, Dean, that’s good. That’s all we can ask of you.”

“And you know how stubborn I can be, not giving up on this nut until it cracks,” Dean grinned into the phone, even though he knew Castiel couldn’t see it. The younger man hoped his partner could hear it at least.

“Yes, I do indeed,” Castiel’s reply was wry and amused.

Dean deflated into a sigh as he sat heavily on the couch. “God, I miss you, Cas.”

“Me too. Home this weekend?”

“I think so. Not gonna set it in stone because I don’t want you to get your hopes up in case something comes up, but I’m going to try.”

xx

This was one of Dean’s favourite times of the day and it was so much easier now with the smaller classroom. The room was filled with that particular hush of focused students. There was a contented buzz in the room. This was the one time of the day when he really got to work one-on-one with his kids. 

His newly installed carpet was plush underneath him and the pillows at his back were soft and comfortable. Maggie beamed up at him as she bounced up and took her book from where Dean was offering it to her.

“Excellent work, Maggie,” Dean smiled, making a small comment in his chicken scratch along the bottom of the girl’s Running Records sheet. “You’re catching your errors a lot more without me helping. I’m very proud. I think you’re going to get your blue star today.” 

A blue star was for an accomplishment in Language. A red star was for Math. A green for Science, so on and so on. Dean colour-coded each subject and kept all the students’ stickers on a private little chart in their files at his desk. The achievements were for Dean and the students they belonged to. 

Dean did not believe in posting the charts publicly. The kids knew when they did well, and it was no one’s business but their own. At the end of the day, Dean would give gold stars for overall achievement. He always let the students know privately when they received one and they would beam at him like he just offered to buy them a puppy or something. Dean loved it.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester! You’re like the best teacher ever,” Maggie giggled and bounded away.

Dean flipped open his attendance page underneath his papers on the clipboard. He was going reverse alphabetical today and Maggie Wallace was just before Jesse Turner. Dean took a steadying breath and pushed himself to his feet. Jesse was at his desk, hunched over a massive novel about a dragon. Dean knew the book gave the eight-year-old boy no trouble and still shook his head a little in awe.

“You’re up, Jesse,” Dean said.

The boy jumped in surprise and looked up, blinking the text from his gaze.

“Sorry, Jesse. Didn’t mean to startle you,” Dean said, chagrined. Jesse shrugged in response. He moved to tuck his novel away and pull out a slimmer book he had in his desk.

“Hey, don’t worry about that. You can keep with what you’re reading. Looks interesting,” Dean grinned.

Jesse looked utterly sceptical, but shrugged again and shuffled over to the reading corner and slumped down.

Once Dean had settled on the floor, clipboard and pencil on his up drawn knee, he turned to see Jesse’s expectant face. It was eerie how quiet and still the kid could be sometimes, and Dean’s smile was a little strained when he said, “All right, why don’t you tell me a little about what you’re reading so I can get the gist before we begin?” 

Dean knew the book, he’d read it once or twice, but like any good teacher, Dean knew sometimes the best way to get your students to communicate was to trick them into showing you what they had learned or how accomplished they were.

Jesse looked resigned as he filled Dean in with key plot points, summarizing recent events in the novel to the point he had reached, and filling Dean in on a few important character details. Dean was impressed, and he scratched a few notes out on Jesse’s paper. 

Unlike some children his age, Jesse didn’t just make a show of reading large novels to impress. He actually paid attention and absorbed what was going on. _Curiouser and curiouser_ , Dean thought in the immortal words of young Alice.

“Thanks, Jesse, I’m all caught up now. You did a great job filling me in. Now you go ahead and begin from where you stopped when I came and got you.”

Jesse opened his mouth but did not look as if he was about to start reading. The look he was giving Dean was clearly one that betrayed thoughts of protest, but Jesse snapped his mouth shut, cleared his throat, and began.

Dean listened as Jesse smoothly read through the text, hardly faltering on words a little beyond his grade level, and pausing in all the rights spots. Dean regrettably noted a complete lack of inflection, but not all young children had a flare for the dramatic and would read blandly. Reading aloud wasn’t really natural for a lot of these kids. Dean made his dutiful notes as Jesse read, and paused in his pencil scratches when Jesse’s voice quivered a little. Dean blinked, rewound what he had been listening to, and frowned a little. The dragon was worried about his friend getting hurt.

“Jesse?” Dean prompted when the boy stopped reading all together.

“What if you knew something bad was going to happen, and you knew some people were probably going to get really hurt… But what if you knew telling someone else would only make that person get hurt too? What would you do?”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath that he tried to disguise as a cough. “’Scuse me… Well, Jesse, if someone was going to get hurt, I would think really hard about whom I could tell that would be best able to protect them. Now, sometimes that can be a parent—”

Jesse tensed at that one, and Dean got what he was fishing for. _Damnit_.

“But not always… Sometimes we should tell our teacher, or sometimes even, if it’s something really, really bad, we should find a way to tell the police. Why, Jesse, is there something you need to tell someone?”

Jesse slowly shook his head. “No, Mr. Winchester… I was just wondering because of… of what’s going on in the story.”

Dean could smell a lie a mile off, but he knew better than to call the boy on it. “Okay then. Do you want to keep reading?”

“I think maybe I’d like to go back to my seat now, Mr. Winchester, if that’s okay.”

“Sure thing, Jesse, you did great today.”

Jesse nodded and hurried off with his book tight against his chest.

Dean sighed and went to go get Jayden.

**End Chapter**


	13. Side Story One - Share a Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthazar has a small social gathering at a restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little fluffy, light side story which is part of _Sin With a Grin._ I wrote this to expand a photograph I described in Chapter Eleven, not necessary to know what I’m talking about but that’s where the inspiration came from. Enjoy!

**Share a Smile**

"Look, Cassy, it would be shockingly simple for the government to turn everyone into zombies. Strike the right fear in the populace, provide the right 'cure' for the right price, and wham, bam, much obliged, Ma'am, you have a zombie army," Balthazar was arguing valiantly, but Castiel was not persuaded.

"You are honestly trying to tell me, Little Brother, that the mass populace of the country would not be _suspicious_ if they were given free immunizations all of a sudden?" Castiel asked critically.

"All right, perhaps that may be a wee bit bizarre for the Home of the Free and whatnot, but it isn't outside the scope of imagination. France. England. Canada. Easy-peasey."

"Lemon-squeezy," Gabriel quipped, sipping his Shiraz with a vivid grin.

Dean rolled his eyes. "That wasn't even funny the first time you said it."

"No, but it was adorable," Gabriel grinned. "Are you two done? Or are we going to continue our discussion about the inevitable Zombie Apocalypse?"

"Well it wouldn't work _en_ _masse_ ," Castiel still insisted, either not hearing, or choosing to ignore Gabriel's not-so-subtle hint. "There would inevitably be those who _were_ suspicious of the immunization and refuse it. Not everyone is that easily persuaded by mainstream media."

" _Most_ are. That's mainstream media's _job_ ," Balthazar countered. "It's outrageous the number of times—"

"Sorry we're late, Guys," Sam said as he ran up, faintly out of breath and holding a clearly abashed Jessica's hand.

Gabriel grinned, "Have a little _aperitif_ , eh Sammy?"

"Oh ew, Dude. We don't discuss brother-sex," Dean grimaced. "Too many of us around this table are related."

"Dean, get your mind out of the gutter, I was merely suggesting that Sam and young Miss Jessica stopped for a _cock_ tail on the way," Gabriel's eyes flashed.

"Down boy," Castiel drawled. "Leave them alone. Balthazar, _do_ control your husband?"

"Gabe, I'm gonna take away your credit card if you keep on," Balthazar said idly.

Gabriel pouted, "You're mean. Both of you. No one _ever_ lets me have any fun."

"We had plenty of fun in college, Gabriel. Now, unfortunately, we have to be grown-ups," Castiel countered.

"Well _you_ do," Gabriel said petulantly.

"What kind of fun in college?" Jessica asked, intrigued. It was the first she'd heard of this. She had always assumed Castiel had been straight-laced from the cradle.

"Far too many recreational drugs, decadence, and indiscretions," Castiel replied, then caught sight of Dean's tight expression. "Perhaps, though, that's not polite dinner talk."

"Like pot?" Jessica wrinkled her nose and everyone thought she was adorable for it. "I mean, who didn't in college?"

"Jess!" Sam choked on his surprise, grinning. "Seriously?"

Jessica rolled her eyes. "You aren't actually surprised, are you, Sam? I did have a life before you, and I wasn't exactly in the running to be crowned Miss Innocent. You know that Katy Perry song?" Jessica grinned wickedly, "Let's just say I can relate."

"Which one?" the men asked curiously, and perhaps with unhealthy interest.

Jessica hummed a few bars of "I Kissed a Girl" but made no move to respond any clearer than that.

"Respect, so much right now," Dean grinned at his brother's girlfriend.

Jessica winked at Dean, before picking up her menu and browsing it.

Perhaps subconsciously, Dean began humming as well and everyone spared him a startled look.

"What?" Dean asked defensively, feeling their eyes on him. "It's was all over the radio for a while, guys. I mean come on." Everyone continued to stare. "Jess started it!" Dean said quickly.

Their waitress came over, dressed impeccably in a black knee-length skirt, black waistcoat, and neatly pressed white blouse. Her hair was held back in a professional bun. They expected cool reserve but were startled when she said sunnily, "Everyone here then? Great!" She looked around the table and shot Jess a sympathetic look. "Oh, Sweetie, seriously?"

Jessica nodded, "Yes, well, half of them are gay."

The waitress' eyebrows shot up to her hairline before she let out a light laugh. "I suppose that's all right then. If there's too much testosterone, though, you let me know. I do a mean escape plan."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jessica smiled.

Female-bonding complete, the waitress turned professional again - but still polite - and asked, "What can I get you two to drink?"

"Vodka-cran, please," Jessica requested.

"Um, whatever you have on tap," Sam said uncertainly.

"Domestic, imported, or microbrewery?" the waitress asked gaily.

"Ah…" Sam glanced quickly around the table, landed on Cas, who looked to be drinking the only thing that wasn't brightly coloured or water, and gestured, "What he's drinking."

"Rickard's Red, imported from Canada. I'm not a beer drinker, but that and Stella I can handle," the waitress said. "Be right back."

"Balthazar got me on it," Castiel explained.

"You're welcome," Balthazar said.

"So you're responsible for the restaurant choice then," Sam inferred.

"Guilty. No regrets," Balthazar grinned.

"I'm still upset I have to wear a tie – On my day off," Dean muttered.

"You and me both," Castiel said with a huff. He had been fighting with the urge to loosen his noose all night, but Balthazar's quelling glares kept his itching hand at bay.

"We're _celebrating_ ," Balthazar said, and from his tone, Sam gathered he'd repeated it several times before he and Jess stumbled in.

"What are we celebrating?" Jessica asked. "Not that Sam and I don't appreciate the invitation, of course. It was really nice for you to let us come along."

"Pish-posh, you're family," Balthazar waved the thanks off. "As for what we're celebrating, I've not decided yet. Just wait, though, I'm certain it will come to me."

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's what you said last time."

"He does this a lot," Gabriel explained when he caught sight of Jessica's bemused expression. "We've stopped worrying. He always pays, so we go along with it."

"Cas, your brother is weird," Sam said, though there was no ire or heat behind it.

"Don't I know it," Castiel smiled back. "Though with him around, I get an awful lot of free meals and as much fancy imported beer as I like, so I'm not about to complain."

"And you shouldn't," Balthazar said archly. "Ah ha! I know what we're celebrating!"

"Oh?" Dean raised a brow. "Do tell."

"Family," Balthazar answered simply.

The waitress' return seemed perfectly planned after that proclamation, and she set Jessica's and Sam's drinks down just in time for them to pick them up and toast with the others.

That seemed like a pretty damn good thing to celebrate.

**End**


	14. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to **Dapperscript** for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
> 
> Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information

  


Dean dragged himself over the threshold of their apartment, the smells and warmth of home falling over him in a soothing cascade. He felt like it had been longer than a week since he’d last been home and he was more than ready to slump down the short hallway and curl up next to Cas. Dean tossed his bag at the front door, intending to do just that when he caught the sound of a low and somewhat angry voice from the kitchen.

Dean frowned and walked towards the sound. It could only really be Castiel and Dean had to wonder what could get the man so riled.

“Look, I’m sure it was all right. Gabriel, would you shut up for ten seconds, please? What makes you think—Dean, hello.”

“Ah hey, Cas.”

“Gabriel, I have to go. No, I’m not going to call you later. I wouldn’t have answered your call just now if you hadn’t called from Balthazar’s cell phone. Good bye.” Castiel ended the call and tossed the phone onto the kitchen table. The heavy Blackberry landed with a clatter that made Dean wince a little.

“Sorry,” Castiel said gently.

“What was that all about?” Dean asked, looking pointedly at Castiel’s phone.

“Nothing, just my brother-in-law trying to psychoanalyse me again. I always assume he gave up on that years ago, you’d think I would learn by now,” a self-deprecating smile on the older man’s part, and then Castiel was walking across the room and wrapping his arms around Dean.

“Welcome home.”

“Thanks. Man, am I beat. Bed?” Dean asked hopefully.

Castiel smiled softly and sadly, “I have some paperwork to finish up, but you go ahead. I’ll be in as soon as I’m done.”

Dean felt a strange little twist in his gut that he couldn’t quite put a finger on, then nodded a little distractedly and wandered down the hall, leaving Castiel alone in the kitchen.

_Did you fuck her, Cas?_

Castiel winced as Gabriel’s voice echoed for a moment in his mind and tried to shake it off. Gabriel had been quizzing him about the subject of Meg ever since Castiel had admitted to his little black-out the night he got spectacularly drunk. Castiel was more than certain he did not, in fact, have sex with his ex-girlfriend that night, but he wasn’t one-hundred per cent sure he was completely guiltless in the entire fiasco either. That made him incredibly uncomfortable. 

The blue-eyed man twirled Dean’s ring around his finger as he slumped heavily down on one of their kitchen chairs. He found every little knick and scratch with the calloused pads of his thumb and sighed. His collar bone began to ache a little again and though it was essentially healed, Castiel knew he should be gentler with it. His time at the range this morning hadn’t helped the ache, and he was regretting the action a little. Sam wanted to hurry and re-qualify, though, and even if Castiel personally would have given it another week, he couldn’t ignore the younger man’s eagerness. They were both more than itching to get back out in the field.

Castiel allowed himself to slump down over his crossed arms on the table in front of him, and jumped a little when his phone chirped at him. Curious and half-dreading, Castiel reached over to check the message. It was from Sam.

**u up for dicks?**

Castiel smirked. **Always. But I’m sure that’s not what you were intending.**

**Luv me some auto-correct… drinks u bastard**

**How often exactly do you use the word ‘dick’ when texting? Dean’s in bed.**

**Hell if i know… Sallright, u and me.**

**Fine. The Cellie?**

**C u in 10**

Castiel figured he couldn’t just leave the apartment when Dean was expecting him to come to bed, but he really could use a drink and Sam sounded as if he could use one as well if the late night text was any indication. Castiel wandered to their bedroom and woke Dean with a kiss. The younger man murmured happily and moved to pull Castiel down next to him.

“Dean, I’m going to go see your brother. I’ll be back later.”

“But Cas…”

“I know. I’ll be back later. Just go back to sleep. You’ll have me all weekend. I promise.”

Dean nodded and rolled over without even offering a kiss good-bye. Castiel figured he deserved it. He shucked off his pajama pants and slipped into a pair of jeans. They hung low around his hips and smelled faintly of chalk – Dean’s. He grabbed his gun, badge, keys, and wallet, and quietly left the room.

xx

Castiel showed up at Sam’s door in ratty Converse, a pale grey Henley, and his borrowed jeans and Sam just quirked a brow at him.

“You raiding my brother’s closet again?”

“Dean’s clothes are always within the easiest reach for some reason. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t. You DD tonight?” Sam asked as they climbed into Castiel’s SUV. Castiel nodded, he only really intended on having one beer. He hadn’t really been one for overindulging as of late. Not after last time.

Sam continued, “You know, that’s one thing I’ve always envied about you two.”

“What?” Castiel furrowed his brow in confusion, though he was used to Sam’s non-sequiturs since they’d known one another so long. Dean did the same thing sometimes.

“The access to clothes. You know how much time I’ve spent digging through Jess’s stuff to find mine? You guys can just grab whatever.”

“Even if Jess was a man, I’m fairly certain you couldn’t fit your over-grown body into her clothes.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “You’re sweet.”

“I do try.”

Castiel let the silence linger for a moment as he wove his way through the quiet streets. He looked over towards Sam every once and a while before finally broaching the subject, “So what’s got you so bothered tonight?”

Sam jumped a little and flashed a guilty smile. “That obvious, huh?”

“After figuring Dean out, you’re not really that much more difficult to read. You basically learned everything from him anyway.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Sam shrugged a little. “Wedding stuff, the baby, getting back to work. I could use the stress relief.”

“Not getting laid, huh?” Castiel asked matter-of-factly.

“Dude, you’re creepy as shit when you do that.”

“So I’ve been told.” Castiel’s next glance was all forced empathy. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m not getting any either.”

Sam scrunched up his nose. “If we were just regular friends, that wouldn’t bother me. Brother-sex, Man…” Sam shook his head. Castiel chuckled, a low rumbling that Sam knew Dean loved.

“So you and Dean on the rocks again?” Sam asked cautiously.

Castiel shrugged. “More a lull than rocks. He’s a little irritated that he has to break confidence in regards to the students. Also, he’s been out of town for a week and I’ve just abandoned him to go drink with his brother. I’m not exactly going to be getting any gold stars any time soon.”

“That would be all kinds of wrong if he actually _gave_ you gold stars.”

Castiel chuckled again, “Rest assured, he doesn’t.”

“You guys will work it out… I’ve noticed Gabriel’s been hounding you a lot more lately. What’s up there?”

Castiel felt his hands go cold for a second and his shoulders tense. The one problem with one of your best friends being your boyfriend’s brother was that there were just things you could not talk about. Castiel shot another glance over at Sam and hoped he was concealing his anxiety well enough. He hardly doubted Sam would take kindly to Castiel admitting that he sort of, kind of, _possibly_ cheated on Dean while drinking but couldn’t remember it clearly enough to be sure. 

Castiel’s answer was cautious and about as truthful as he was willing to make it, “Dean. Gabe’s concerned about Dean being away so much with this case. He just wants to make sure that I’m handling it all right.” 

Sam nodded. “Understandable. I imagine it’s prett—” Sam cut himself off abruptly and Castiel shot quick repeated glances over at his partner, splitting his attention between Sam and the road.

“What is it?”

“Slow down,” Sam said, switching his tone to all-business in a moment. 

Castiel eased off the gas and did as he was told. He tracked Sam’s gaze the best he could while watching the road and saw what had captured Sam’s attention. There were several black and silver Land Rovers parked along the side of a building that looked far too dark to have that many vehicles scattered around it. At least to their trained eyes. 

“Crowley’s chariot of choice,” Castiel mused.

“Do you have your…” Sam asked hurriedly and made an obscure flapping motion with his hand. Castiel nodded at the glove compartment. Sam opened it and reached in, pulling out Castiel’s tablet and signing in with his Bureau ID. Castiel casually turned the corner and took his time as he passed the building.

“You get a number?” Sam asked.

“Twenty-five thirty.”

A few moments of nearly soundless tapping on the touch screen and Sam started back a little, “This building is owned by the Morningstar Corporation.”

“What?” Castiel snapped out. “So close to—”

“I know. I know. But it’s right here. Lilith’s dad owns this place. If not Lilith herself. I can’t get anything beyond Morningstar in the database. Why the hell would Crowley’s men be crawling all over one of Morningstar’s properties?”

“Sam, I seem to recall sounds of distress as we were passing that building.”

“Why, Castiel, I heard them too.”

“I believe it is our duty as Federal Agents to investigate, lest anyone is in need of our assistance.”

“Call it in,” Sam nodded firmly. 

Castiel did just that and eased the SUV into an alley a few blocks away from the building. Crowley’s Aston Martin and Lilith’s Lexus were nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean either of them hadn’t changed vehicles for the occasion.

“Secret tryst?” Castiel suggested.

Sam made a face. “Doubt it. I don’t think even Lilith and Crowley are kinky enough to have this much of an audience… You just wanted to use the word ‘tryst’ didn’t you?”

Castiel gave a half-hearted little shrug and a grin before nodding for Sam to take point. “I like the word.”

“You’re so weird. No wonder you and my brother get along so well.” Sam moved into the lead and walked cautiously towards the building. They stayed out of the light as much as possible and cut into an alley, hurriedly jogging to the end where they came to a fence between the brick.

“Of course,” Castiel stated blandly.

“Up you go,” Sam holstered his gun and crouched a little. Castiel nodded and went towards Sam at a bit of a jog before placing his sneakered foot in Sam’s hand a reaching for the support bar at the top of the chain link. His toes were narrowed enough that he could have scaled it, but this was faster. Castiel swung around so he was at the far side of the fence and shimmed over until he was braced enough to hoist Sam after him. Sam scaled part-way and then used the assistance of Castiel’s momentum to finish the climb. They landed on the greasy asphalt below, Castiel soundless as he dropped and Sam only making the faintest of noise with his heavier boots.

Sam moved forward inch by inch, steps now silent in the night, and Castiel grinned a little. “Another trick learned at your brother’s knee?”

“Hey, there wasn’t much to do in Lawrence. B&E was a way to pass the time. The trick was not getting caught. We used to sneak into old abandoned houses at first, and then moved on to occupied buildings. Only Dean ever did the more serious stuff, though,” Sam shrugged.

Castiel shook his head and thought briefly on what Dean’s life would have been like if he wasn’t so damn lucky all the time. He’d only ever got caught once when he was fourteen, and those records were sealed. Castiel caught motion from somewhere ahead of Sam and shot out a hand. He laid his palm flat on Sam’s chest and pushed the other man up against the wall. Sam looked startled until he heard the footsteps as a man’s silhouette came into view. Castiel and Sam shared a look before grinning and flattening themselves against the brick with silent laughter.

“Jesus, these bastards are sly. What the fuck do you think they’re up to?” Sam whispered.

“That is precisely what we are here to discover, Dear Watson,” Castiel whispered back in a faux English accent.

“You and your Downey Jr. obsession, I swear…” Sam shook his head. 

Castiel could only offer a shrug as he turned serious and took the lead this time. Sam moved with surprising skill for such a large man but Castiel still had the quicker eye and the sharper intuition. He studiously ignored the dull throb in his collarbone and adjusted the grip on his Glock as they moved around the corner.

“Door,” Castiel mouthed, gesturing with his head. Sam nodded, looked briefly left and right, before running at a crouch toward the metal slab. He dug around the inside of his jacket pocket while Castiel covered him. Sam made quick work of the lock and stood, pressing his body flat against one side of the frame while Castiel skittered across the lot and pressed flat against the other. Sam reached forward and grabbed the handle and counted silently from three on his fingers. Just as he closed his index down, he pulled open the door and Castiel darted inside. Sam followed a moment later and the two ducked against the wall.

“Catwalks,” Castiel whispered. 

Sam shrugged in a ‘good a place as any’ gesture and looked around until he found the ladder. It was to the right of them and above their heads, leading up from the metal decks that spanned the building. “The stairs are going to be a bitch to stay quiet on.”

Castiel didn’t doubt that. The staircase was the perforated metal kind that had a penchant for rattling despite best efforts. Other than where they were at the entrance, the building was essentially wide open space and then a dark corridor that disappeared into the belly of the building at the far end. They walls looked to be hastily constructed and did not reach the girder ceiling of the warehouse.

“What is this place?” Sam wondered aloud, frowning. 

Castiel could only shrug in response. This was an area mostly of store fronts and apartment blocks. Finding a warehouse this size in the middle of it was strange.

“Factory, maybe?” Castiel offered.

“God knows what Crowley and Lilith would be manufacturing together,” Sam remarked darkly.

“Let’s go. I’m sure all the action is beyond those partitions,” Castiel whispered. 

“I’ll go up, you cover me,” Sam offered. 

Castiel nodded. The older agent rose steadily up from his crouch and kept keen eyes peeled for any disturbance. He tried to ignore the way his heart hammered in his chest at how eerily reminiscent this place was to the last murky old building he’d crawled into and got blown up at.

Castiel winced and was jolted back to the present with the rumbling of the metal stairs behind him, which could not resist shuddering even with Sam’s gentle tread. Castiel tensed and waited but no one came to investigate and Cas skulked over at Sam’s gentle whistle. Though the rubber of his sneaker soles was practically inaudible with his soft steps, the too-long hem of Dean’s jeans swished along the smooth floor with each movement. Castiel cursed mentally but made it up the stairs without incident and shimmied up the ladder after Sam.

“All right, it branches off,” Sam remarked unnecessarily, as Castiel saw that clear enough for himself once they crested the landing. 

Castiel nodded and narrowed his eyes as he puzzled through the next step. He very much wanted to investigate that corridor across the building, but there was a path directly ahead that could be just as promising. Last time Castiel split up with a partner and ventured on alone, it didn’t end well. He may be hesitant to do it again but Sam had more experience than Rachel had… Castiel caught his lip, a borrowed gesture from Dean, before releasing it and making his decision.

“You go straight. I want to see what’s down that hallway,” Castiel said.

“Okay, sounds good. Meet you back here in… Twenty?”

“Make it fifteen.” With a terse nod, Castiel, gun drawn, cut a quick path down the left side catwalk while Sam moved off ahead. 

Castiel watched the younger Winchester’s back fade, before allowing himself to move any further down and tried to relax his tense shoulders as he went. There was no way that Crowley’s men or Lilith’s could possibly know they were here. This had not been at all planned, and though it was probably not an award winning decision on Castiel’s part, Sam had backed him fully in it and they were here now. Neither of them could pass up such an opportunity, and neither of them was really known for their restraint. 

Sam used to be, of course, but Castiel tended to be a bad influence on Winchesters, and Winchesters were a worse influence on one another. Impulsive decision making seemed to run in the family and Castiel was no better. Never had been when it came to battle and investigation. Castiel had a tendency to luck out however, because impulsive he may be with a notable lack of consultation, but his pop fly decisions often worked out in the end. Dean’s too, and John’s. Sam fit right in with his father and brother, and Castiel knew Sam was more than capable of handling himself. That finally knocked out the last of Castiel’s anxiety as he moved with new purpose to his mysterious corridor.

He slowed his steps as he approached and strained to hear if it really had been voices that caught his ear or a mere trick of the building. Castiel crept forward on the catwalk and was rewarded with the sight of two suited men bending towards one another to discuss something. Castiel hushed his breath and eased his steps and hoped fervently that neither of the two men had a sudden inclination to look up. Soft as sin and comfortable as Dean’s grey Henley might be, the colour did not make for good camouflage against the shadows of the building’s ceiling.

Castiel made himself as small as possible and crept forward inch-by-inch in an awkward crouch, his gun held in both hands in front of him. 

“He’s determined to get the business up and running again after that damned agent took it out two years ago. He knows the only way to do it is work with his ex-fuck, so he’s doing it. Doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.”

“I still don’t see how he’ll pull anything like this off. If they’re gone, they’re gone, ain’t they?”

“Always can get more, Wayne, you should know this by now. He just needs a pair of eyes to look the other way and sometimes you have to make deals to do it.”

“So when’s he want this up and running by?”

“Going down in the new year. Gonna spring the trap at Christmas. Think you can do it?”

“Anything for the right price, Azazel . Grossman and I can get started as soon as we have the funds.”

“Sounds like a—”

Castiel just about dived off the catwalk when the crack of gunfire echoed loud and long down the building. Azazel and Wayne shared a brief, startled glance before both men ran off down the corridor and into the main room. Castiel used every ounce of strength he possessed to wait a beat before following so the clatter of his footsteps wouldn’t be heard too clearly over the scuffle. 

Castiel, with every last, lingering shred of faith he had, prayed that Sam was all right as he took off after the two men. He tore down the catwalk in the direction Sam had taken. The agent’s wholly unpractical runners slid unsettlingly on the metal below his feet. Castiel slowed when he saw Sam kneeling on the concrete with his arms behind his back, a gun under his chin and a faceless thug holding his neck back by his hair. 

“Fuck,” Castiel whispered. He crept ever-so-slowly forward when he realized what must have given Sam away. A horrible creaking shriek split the relative quiet of the warehouse as the girder gave below Castiel’s weight. He scrambled to get on even ground again but his rubber soles scrabbled uselessly on the perforated metal. He slid down the catwalk as it tumbled, managing to swing around with gun drawn as he landed in a crouch on the dusty floor below. 

The one good thing that came of the entire fiasco was that he provided enough of a distraction for Sam to break the hold the men had on him and scramble behind a few stacked crates for cover. Firing, Castiel took after him and the two leaned against the wood while Crowley’s men regrouped.

“Get them,” Azazel hissed. 

“Fuck me,” Sam cursed, ducking as a bullet whizzed by over his head.

“Love to, really, a Winchester sandwich is what I always dreamed of, but not really the time for propositions,” Castiel gritted out, firing blindly over his head.

“Bastard,” Sam replied, though he had a grin on his face.

“Nothing like a firefight, right Samuel?”

“Brings back fond memories, does it?”

“All kinds.”

“God, this was basically the worst idea ever,” Sam shifted around to peer over the crates, calculating for a moment before firing off two clean shots and dropping one of their attackers. He ducked hastily back behind the crate as another volley of bullets whizzed overhead.

“We don’t have enough ammunition,” Castiel remarked unnecessarily.

“No kidding,” Sam returned.

“So how the fuck do we get out of this one?”

“Such a potty mouth, Cas, Man. I swear I’m fighting with Dean right now.”

“Yes, well your brother is a horrible influence on me. I count five cronies, and Azazel makes six.”

“I have about four rounds left,” Sam answered.

“Two.”

“So that’s fine, just don’t miss. All right?”

“Sure thing. I’ll take the two on the left, you take the four on the right.”

“If only one of us survives this and it’s you, Dean can have my collection of fuzzy socks.”

“All right. If it’s you, let Gabriel know that he gets all my tacky ties.”

“He’ll love it.”

“And no crying at my funeral.”

“Deal,” Sam nodded, they shared a glace for a moment before on the silent count of three, they rolled free from their cover. 

Castiel came up into one of the thug’s personal space and smashed his elbow in the man’s nose. He man let out a yowl and backed away. Castiel brought his arm up and fired clean into the centre of the man’s forehead before rounding on the other and firing at the man’s chest. Both went down and Castiel rushed over to help Sam. His gun was useless now, but Castiel’s right hook wasn’t. The blue-eyed agent ducked a punch before rounding and flattening the man to the floor. Sam turned in time to fire two more consecutive shots and all that remained was one bullet and Azazel cowering on the floor.

“Well that went far better than expected,” Castiel remarked, thoroughly surprised as he and Sam approached Azazel.

“You cops are all the same,” Azazel sneered.

“We aren’t cops,” Sam said.

“We’re Federal Agents.”

“And you are under arrest—” before Sam could finish, Azazel scrambled over and picked up a discarded gun, rounding on Castiel. 

Sam raised his gun to fire, and just when he was going to squeeze the trigger, Castiel turned wide eyes to see Sam slumping to his knees, staring dumbly down at the pool of red slowly seeping into his shirt on his chest. 

Castiel reacted before he could think, snatched up Sam’s gun from his loosened grip, and turned to fire at the attacker. A young black man blinked and fell, a long silver blade falling free from his slack hand; when Castiel turned back to Azazel, the man was already running down the hallway. Sirens sounded in the distance and Castiel fought the tears that threated to spill free as he scrambled over to his would-be brother-in-law and placed pressure on the wound in the younger man’s chest.

**End Chapter**


	15. Interlude II: Dirty Laundry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another moment shared between Dean and Castiel. More is revealed of the boys' pasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small interlude from _Sin with a Grin_. This may not make sense if read alone. Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information. Chapter Thirteen _will_ be up this week; however, due to RL it may be slightly delayed.
> 
> Special thanks to **Dapperscript** for the wonderful beta! 
> 
> **Warnings:** All Human AU, FBI!fic, teacher!fic, slash, established relationship, mention of m/m sexual content, mature situations/themes, **_talk of war and associated violence_** including minor character death, death of a child, which may affect sensitive readers.

**Sin with a Grin – Interlude II: Dirty Laundry**

Dean had come across the picture completely by accident. He was doing Cas’s laundry while the man was passed out, asleep on the couch. He had just been away on a three day mission and had barely managed to get undressed before he’d collapsed. Dean had picked up item after item and dug around in the well-worn jeans Castiel was wearing as cover, and pulled out the well-loved photograph. It was of a  
woman with dark hair, delicate features, and wide, almond-shaped grey eyes. She was slender and beautiful with the biggest grin Dean had ever seen outside of Lisa. In her arms she held a small boy, maybe two-years-old but it was sort of hard to tell. 

Dean blinked and put the photograph aside, along with one of himself he had also pulled out. He was hunched over papers at his desk, and it was only a profile shot. Dean hadn’t even realized Castiel had taken it. Dean quirked a brow and shrugged. He’d ask later. 

When Castiel awoke ten hours later and Dean asked, the blue-eyed man hadn’t replied; he’d just shut down and started making dinner.

xx

“I was married,” Castiel blurted one night, a few days later as they lay together.

Dean looked up and blinked, sleepy and well-worn form their previous activities. “Huh?”

“I was married,” Castiel said quietly again.

“What happened?” Dean asked gently.

“I had a son, too,” Castiel whispered, voice cracking. Dean breathed in sharply and felt his body start to tremble. Castiel said _had_ a son. Not have, had.

“His mother…” Castiel sucked in a shaky breath. “She was beautiful, you know, and incredibly brave. I saw her at a café, hair dark and stunning, peeking out from the loosely wrapped pink scarf she wore. She wasn’t born in Afghanistan; she was born in England but had moved to Afghanistan when her father got transferred. She never quite… conformed I guess, and he never made her. 

“Her mother was born in England, her grandparents had been Indian. However, her mother died when Aaliyah was a girl. I saw she was unescorted and had to admit I was intrigued. I sat with her and spoke to her in her language; she looked a little surprised and then laughed at me. She told me my accent was better than hers before she fell into English. 

“Aaliyah had told me she just returned to the country, she had taken journalism and was fresh out of graduate school. She wanted to write a book about the women of the war, and was finding it difficult to do. I saw her grey eyes flash, her smile was brilliant, white teeth and wide, and it didn’t take long for me to fall for her. 

“I’m not sure if her father was ever too keen on Aaliyah marrying an American soldier, but we were married for nearly three years, though really I only spent about a year with her with all the time I spent away. And my… son… Aaliyah had named him Kamali—it means perfection—she asked me, though, what I wanted to name him when I took him to America, and…” Castiel had to breathe deep again. “I said Kamali was fine, he was a year old when I first met him.” 

Castiel shook his head. “My God, it’s… Jesus.”

“Cas,” Dean said gently. “Please don’t if this is too hard.”

“No! You have to know!” Castiel said insistently, almost desperate. “Please. I have to tell someone.”

“Okay, Cas, okay,” Dean nodded.

“I chose Theodore, Teddy, it means divine gift and I could think of nothing better suited to him, you know? Perfect, divine gift. 

“He had such pale skin, it looked strange almost against his black curls and he had grey eyes like his mother. He would smile at me and even if I hadn’t met him right away, it was like _he knew me._

“I never worked up the courage to ask why she’d said when I take him back to America, not we. I wondered, but I didn’t ask… I should have… I was on leave again, and had just returned to the city. I was supposed to meet them at a café before we headed home because she was working. I heard the explosion before I saw it, and I… God… I just _knew_ what happened. 

“I ran, as fast as I could, I ran and when I got there it was carnage. People were screaming, there was blood and gore everywhere. A suicide bomber had been in the centre of the square. It was only a yard or two from where Aaliyah was sitting with Teddy. 

“I recognized her instantly even if there—I still recognized her. She had pulled Teddy underneath her, but he was so little, Dean, he was only two and half… I think she was trying to cry when I reached her, and then she tried to smile and say something but she just couldn’t. It was too late. I just remember the last flash of her warm, grey eyes before they went dark and I… I don’t remember much after that. Not really. 

“Gabriel and Balthazar came and took me home for a few months and it all seems so much of blur before I went back. I couldn’t save my wife and son, but I could save other people’s. So I went back even if they all said I didn’t have to… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, and maybe I would never have told you if it wasn’t for you finding the photo. I just… Don’t talk about it.”

Dean knew anything he said to Castiel would be useless platitudes and Castiel appreciated that Dean didn’t try. He heard enough from his brothers and his fellow soldiers, and nothing could make it feel better or make it go away. Dean understood that, and he remained quiet for a time and let Castiel deal with his grief silently. After such a difficult subject, Dean felt that he should share with Castiel as well. He deserved to know. It wasn’t quite the same, but it was important Castiel know, better than him finding out another way.

Dean swallowed. “I guess… I should tell you something too. I suppose it kind of pales in comparison to what you’ve been through, but in interest of full disclosure…”

“Dean?”

“Look, it’s not something I’m proud of. I don’t really know what kind of guy this makes me, all right?”

“Dean, what?” Castiel asked, wondering what could make the green-eyed man look so frightened to share.

“And given what you do, what you’ve done, what you’ve lost, you may hate me after,” Dean muttered.

“Dean, I don’t think I cou—”

“Cas, just let me get this out, all right? When I was… Jesus, when I was a kid I made some pretty shitty decisions. I wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular in school, I didn’t really have a lot of friends, and I was kind of a moron… 

“Anyway, I was pissed off at myself, at my parents, at the world in general, and I don’t even really know why. I just figured it wasn’t fair that I got stuck with everything, you know? Taking care of Sammy, being there for my mom when my dad fucked up, picking up the pieces when they almost split up. 

“He was gone for a few weeks, once, my dad. Part of me thinks they got married too young. I mean, they’re pretty awesome now, but back then… I don’t know, they were fighting all the time and I had to tell Sammy everything would be alright, and then I just had to get out of there. None of that should excuse anything I did. I mean, it really just comes to what I chose for myself. 

“I started getting involved in things I probably shouldn’t have, especially considering I was only fourteen,” Dean laughed self-deprecatingly. “I was hanging out with some older kids and it started small at first: drinking, vandalizing shit, minor theft. I’m shocked I didn’t get caught earlier. I didn’t know what I was doing half the time, then I started getting into more stuff. Breaking into buildings, stealing larger things, until I screwed up and stole the wrong guy’s car. 

“I was not quite fifteen; they managed to catch me and I got off pretty light because, according to records, it was a first offence. Maybe it helped the guy recognized my dad from the garage or whatever… 

“I just had to do six months in Juvie and then some community service. It cleaned me up for a while, I started to get back on track with school and they sealed up the records. Then after I managed to graduate, I met this chick named Lisa and she was pretty cool at first. Mom didn’t like her too much because she had a kid, Ben, and she was older. Lisa also liked to have a good time, you know? So I started drinking too much again, goofing off, and then one night…” Dean steadied himself. 

Castiel didn’t say anything, just reached over and took Dean’s hand in his own.

Dean continued, “One night, Lisa and I had a pretty nasty fight, we were out with a few of her friends, Ben was at his dad’s, and we were both kind of spectacularly drunk… 

“Lisa was screaming and yelling at me, and ever since my parents and my dad and Sammy, I was never real good with confrontation. I knew I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I left Lisa with her friends and started driving home. 

“I was nowhere near sober enough to be driving, but thank God it was late and Lisa and I lived in a small town that only had a few bars. I was on this country lane that crossed a two-lane high way and I wasn’t paying any attention at all. I could barely see straight when this… Jesus, I don’t really remember, but they tell me this big Mac truck was coming up the road, I had a stop sign but I didn’t see it, and he t-boned me. 

“Thank God, I was in the Impala and not one of those fiberglass mockeries that cars are now, and thank God the truck at hit on the passenger side because if it hadn’t, I would have died instantly. As it was, I was pretty close from what my mom tells me, though none of us really talk about it. 

“I was in a coma for a few weeks and it was real touch and go. I pulled through though, and I’m here now. I got charged with a DUI, but that was it because the only person that was hurt was myself. Also, because according to adult records it was a first offence, I got off pretty light. I had to complete 100 hours of community service, and also the court ordered me to complete an alcohol and drug treatment program, which I had to pay for. 

“I also had to pay a $1000 fine and all my court costs and associated fees. Since I had the juvenile record, I almost had to go to prison, but the lawyer was a friend of Bobby’s and managed to talk the DA around… Something about extenuating circumstances or whatever, I didn’t pay much attention to be honest. So that’s it… I mean, the list of what I did as a kid could fill a book, but that’s the Cliffs Notes version,” Dean said pathetically. “I may be Mr. Winchester, third grade teacher now, but I used to be Dean the delinquent. So I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me, Cas, I mean you’re a Federal Agent after all…”

Castiel sighed, “Dean, what you did in your past doesn’t change who you have become. We’ve all made poor decisions in our lives. I was a slut in university and got myself in trouble more than once. Luckily, nothing serious, but it was serious enough. We deal in different ways. The boy you were then is not the man you have become. I know your heart, Dean Winchester, and I’m certain your lawyer was right about those extenuating circumstances.”

“Cas… about your wife and son… I’m really, real—”

“Dean, it wasn’t your fault,” Castiel cut in.

“Yeah, but if I had known I wouldn’t have pried, you know? I’m sure it’s not something you like talking about,” Dean said softly.

“No, it isn’t. But I do enjoy remembering them. I’m glad you know, it means I can tell you about Kamali now,” Castiel said gently. “I wish you could have found out under different circumstances, but now it’s out in the open, which is for the best.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed softly. “No secrets.”

“No secrets.”

**Interlude II End**


	16. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to **Dapperscript** for the wonderful beta! Thank you!

  


“Jake Talley. Served in Afghanistan for a year and a half,” Ellen slapped the file on the table in front of Castiel. 

Castiel nodded numbly.

“Son…” 

Castiel shook his head and pushed away from the table, not letting the woman finish. He couldn’t take the warmth in her gaze right now. He couldn’t take the grief there. One of Castiel’s own brothers-in-arms had turned and committed such a heinous act. Castiel felt sick to his stomach as he closed his eyes tight shut at the wave that threatened to overwhelm him.

“I can’t be here, Ellen, I need… I need to be…” Castiel muttered.

“I know, I know. Gabriel’s out front waiting for you,” Ellen nodded. “You go on. Two weeks, Castiel. You have two weeks and you aren’t fighting me on this.”

“Ellen, this is my fault, I can’t sit here for two weeks while—”

“Talley’s dead, Castiel, you already killed him. Two weeks. Dean as well, you hear me?”

Castiel nodded and slumped out of the room. 

Gabriel was waiting at reception for Castiel, Balthazar at his side. Both were dressed in sombre black suits. Gabriel handed Castiel his overcoat as the other man approached. Castiel took it numbly and slipped it on. He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled back as if he’d been burnt. There, sitting nestled and neatly wrapped, was the engagement present Dean had Castiel pick up only a few days before the shoot-out. 

God, _Dean_. 

Castiel closed his eyes and had to steel himself for the upcoming encounter. He needed to be the strong one right now. Sam was his partner and his friend, but Sam was Dean’s brother. They were as close as two people had ever been. Balthazar came over and slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder, pulling the shorter man tight against his side and kissing his temple.

“We’re here for you, Cassy, all right? You be there for Dean, but know we’re here for you.”

Castiel didn’t want to admit how much he needed the gentle comfort and words just then. He merely leaned into his brother’s side and nodded as they exited the building.

xx

Castiel sat in the back as Balthazar drove them to their destination. The agent leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching people go about their lives as if nothing was wrong. Happy, flush-cheeked faces, bundled in winter best as mist curled free from their red lips. Shopping, preparing and getting ready for a Christmas that for them would be a happy one. Castiel hated each and every person out there just then. What right did they have to be happy? 

His eyes burned again and Castiel caught the sob in his throat as he ducked his head away from the glass. His gloved hands were clenched tight in his lap.

“Almost there, Cassy,” Gabriel said gently.

Castiel nodded and wiped his eyes quickly, he couldn’t fall apart. He’d have his chance later.

When Balthazar’s black Bentley eased to a halt, Castiel turned terrified eyes up to the building before them. He sat in the car, unable to move until Gabriel opened it for him and gently urged him out. Balthazar nodded and went to find a parking spot.

“I can’t go in,” Castiel whispered.

“Castiel,” Gabriel said sternly, glaring into his brother-in-law’s eyes. “You have to. For Dean.”

“Why do people around me get hurt?” Castiel asked quietly. “Why do they always get hurt? What do I do?”

“Castiel, this isn’t your fault. This shit happens. It’s not fun, it’s not nice, and I wish to God that it didn’t, but it just does. You have to go in there, you have to be strong for Dean, you hear me?”

Castiel swallowed. “Sam was going to get married. Jessica… Jessica’s going to have a baby.”

“Castiel, you have to go in there right now. Dean needs you,” Gabriel was insistent this time; Castiel nodded dazedly as Gabriel pulled him through the entrance. The smell and the hum of voices did little to bring Castiel back to himself, but when he saw Dean, that’s all he needed.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered. The younger man looked up then and Castiel came to his side immediately. 

Dean was smiling.

“He’s stable, Cas, it was real touch and go there for a bit, but he’s finally stable. He almost woke up this morning but they kept him under to give his body more time to heal. They managed to get the infection under control and his temperature is down. Brain waves are good. They aren’t sure about him walking yet, but he seems to be responding and the doctor thinks he’s probably gonna be all right.”

“Oh thank God,” Castiel whispered, slouching down in the chair next to Dean in the ICU’s private waiting room.

“Mom and Dad are in there with him right now, but we can go in and see him in a little bit,” Dean nodded firmly.

“Dean, Dean I’m so sor—”

“Cas, stop. We went over this when you brought him in. Sure I was pissed then, but look, Sam’s fine now. You didn’t do this to Sam, all right? Sam’s not gonna blame you. I don’t blame you. Mom and Dad don’t blame you. It’s part of the job, right? We shouldn’t talk about it again.”

“He’s truly going to be all right?” Castiel asked meekly.

“That’s what they think, yeah. They’re pretty sure.”

“The man who hurt your brother was Jake Talley. He was an ex-soldier, served in Afghanistan for a year and half,” Castiel said, after a few moments.

“He’s dead, right?” Dean asked darkly.

“Yes, I killed him myself. He’s dead. I just… With this knowledge that Crowley and Lilith are recruiting ex-soldiers… It’s very unsettling and I feel as if we are both going to have to be a lot more careful. These are trained men, well trained, and if they’re on the opposite side…”

“I know,” Dean nodded grimly.

“The building Sam and I infiltrated. There’s evidence that it was to be used as a home base of sorts for the sex trade.”

“Isn’t that the branch of Lilith’s company you shut down two years ago?”

“Crowley’s, but yes. Lilith’s is still up and running as far as we know.”

“So, Crowley’s made a deal with Lilith to get his own sex trade back up and running and as she’s the forerunning dealer in flesh around… Why would she welcome the competition?”

“She probably gets a cut of the revenue. Crowley supplies the victims, Lilith rents out corners and space to Crowley. She covers more area but doesn’t have to work as hard. In the end it’s all going to fall to Jesse anyway, so maybe she sees this as ensuring his future.”

“God, that poor kid. Now that I know Sam’s going to be all right, I really need to get back out there. Jesse was just starting to trust me… You don’t think he knew anything about this, do you? The factory? The business? He mentioned people were going to get hurt.”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply but shut it quickly as several people wandered past the open door of the waiting room. After a moment he said, “This isn’t the place to discuss all this. But as for you going back there, you can’t. Ellen’s demanded we take two weeks off because of what happened with Sam.”

Dean flickered anxious eyes towards Castiel. “That was before, though, she doesn’t know he’s going to be all right. We should tell her… I need to get back to those kids, Cas. If this is really going on, anyone looking to weasel into the market could be after Jesse as a potential bargaining chip. I mean, if Crowley and Lilith complete this merger, there’s going to be no space for anyone else. Sounds like a good motive to me.”

Castiel sighed, “For now, let’s wait until Sam is completely in the clear. He’ll be fine,” Castiel was quick to say, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t take the time to be with him.”

Dean gnawed his lip for a moment, clearly torn between his duty as a teacher and - more importantly - his duty as a big brother. He’d had his moment of anger and panic. Sam was fine, though. He was fine. Jesse might get hurt, he was still in danger after all. Perhaps more so now than before. 

Castiel, sensing Dean’s anxiety, reached out and gripped his hand. Dean flinched slightly, still working towards forgiving Castiel for his role in Sam’s injury, but realizing intellectually that it could have just as easily been Cas lying in that hospital bed, again. Dean would never begrudge Sam’s role in something like that and he needed to treat Castiel the same. 

They were both reckless and one of them got hurt, but neither of them had any more responsibility in the matter than the other. Besides, it had been Jake Talley who’d stabbed Sam. Jake Talley was dead and Azazel would be rounded up any day. 

The other man, Wayne, had fled out the back door, but he hadn’t run far enough. He had been arrested and was surprisingly forthcoming after some FBI-brand persuasion. 

That saga of their crazy lives would be wrapped up neatly, but the bigger threat of Lilith and Crowley still loomed.

Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand and the agent offered a shaky smile. 

“Cas, I’m glad you made it,” a voice sounded from the doorway.

Castiel looked up and smiled at Mary and rose to embrace her tightly. “Of course I did. Sam means a great deal to me, I consider him my brother. I’m very glad to hear he’s doing well.”

She released him from the hug but didn’t let go of his arm; she smiled and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “I’m glad you’re his partner, Castiel. If it hadn’t been you… Sam may have…”

Castiel closed his eyes. “I am sorry, Mary. This shouldn’t have happened at all. We were both so anxious to get out in the field again that… I’m very sorry.”

“No, it’s all right. Sam knew what he signed up for, you both did. He’s going to be all right and that’s the important part. John’s just coming out now so you and Dean can go in and see him. I have to go pick up Jessica from home. I made her go and rest, for the baby’s sake.”

Castiel nodded and squeezed her hand once before they released each other entirely.

Dean whispered quietly to his mother before dropping a kiss on her cheek and following. 

Castiel took Dean’s hand in his own and the younger man clasped it gratefully.

“He’s going to be fine,” Castiel whispered into Dean’s ear. Dean nodded and the two passed John in the hallway. Castiel gave the older man a tight nod and John nodded back before they pushed passed the doors of Sam’s room in the ICU.

xx

“My God, would you shut up, Sammy? And I thought Cas was the worst patient in the world,” Dean tossed a light, fluffy pillow at his brother. The younger man was sprawled and pathetic looking across the couch in Sam’s and Jess’s apartment. Dean wrinkled his nose. It really did smell like a gym locker in here. Their dad hadn’t been kidding.

“You talk to Cas like that when he was hurt?” Sam shot Dean his big wet puppy eyes and Dean had to groan.

“Yes.”

Sam gave him blank look. “Doubt it.”

“Shuddup.”

“You know you don’t have to stick around. I’m fine, Dean,” Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, wincing only slightly as he shifted in place.

Dean snorted, “Sure, Sam.”

“Dean, I mean it,” Sam protested.

“Sure, Sam.”

“God, you’re so annoying. Why did I get stuck with you as a big brother?”

“Oh please, I’m awesome and you know it. Who else would stick around to look after your sorry ass until your wife came home, huh?”

“Not wife yet.”

“Good thing too, 'cause if this is your marital home… Damn, Sammy,” Dean shook his head as he looked around the dank apartment and scowled. “No place to raise a kid. That’s for sure.”

Sam gave Dean a mysterious little grin. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Dean raised a brow, but didn’t press. “All right… Anyway, I’m not here just to look after you or to brighten up your life with my awe-inspiring presence. I’m heading back to the Academy early tomorrow. Thought I’d make sure you were good before I go. So you good?”

“Aside from the hole torn into my back? Swell… But heading back already, Dean? With what we just found out?”

“ _Already_? It’s been two freakin’ weeks! I’ve waited this long, so I’m heading back. I was just starting to make a break-through with Jesse when you and my idiot fiancé decided to play hero and nearly get killed.”

“We didn’t do it on purpose,” Sam muttered.

“Yeah, well, next time make sure you two use your thick heads before charging half-cocked into a would-be abandoned building crawling with criminals. Got it?”

“Cas get this speech too?”

“You bet his sweet ass he did.”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “Eww.”

“Grow up,” Dean tossed another pillow at his brother.

Sam started to catch it. “Ow!”

Dean snorted. 

“Dean…” Sam began hesitantly. 

Dean paused in rearranging the pillows on the chair he was sitting in and turned towards his brother. “Yeah?”

“Look, you’re a grown up and everything and I know you can take care of yourself, but I just… I don’t want you trying to prove anything, all right? We have all kinds of information and you probably don’t even _need_ to go back. Just stay, yeah?”

“Sam, you really don’t think what’s going on is about more than a bunch of hookers?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“I dunno, Dean, but I really don’t think Jesse’s gonna give you more than we already got. He said people were gonna get hurt, people would have gotten hurt.”

Dean shook his head. “Sorry, Sam. Can’t leave it like that. I have to go find out for myself… You know me.”

“Yeah, yeah… I know you,” Sam sighed. He waited a beat before looking up at his brother and said hesitantly, “Just, do me a favour?”

“Sure, Sammy.”

“Don’t drag this out longer than it needs to be. Just, give it only until after the Christmas break. If you don’t have anything by then, come back, all right?”

Dean huffed and sat in the small space in front of his brother on the couch. He squeezed Sam’s knee and smiled gently. “All right, Sam. Only until after Christmas.”

Sam’s expression was full of relief as he flashed his brother a grin. “Thanks, Dean.” Dean squeezed Sam’s knee again and looked away. 

Could he really walk away now?

Dean stood and smiled, ruffling Sam’s hair before heading back to the chair. He slumped across it and scooped up the remote, turning the volume back up on the television as he settled back in to wait for Jess.

xx

“He’s out,” Dean whispered as Jessica crept into the apartment after her shift that evening. 

Jessica grinned gratefully at Dean and came over to greet him with a hug.

“Thanks for staying with him. He hates that I asked you, but I just… After almost losing him, the thought of leaving him alone and hurt… I just can’t take it, you know? With what I see every day, it’s a wonder I let him leave the house at all. He’s always teasing me that as soon as the baby’s born I’m going to lock them away in a bubble and not let them out of my sight.”

“Your kids are all good though, right? Not a bad day, I hope,” Dean bit his lip as he asked hesitantly.

“No, my kids are fine. Though one little girl came in today…” Jessica trailed off as she collapsed down in the chair across from Dean. “My parents think I’m crazy for wanting to be a pediatric nurse, and sometimes, like today, I don’t blame them.”

“I hate fucking bastards who hurt kids,” Dean muttered angrily.

Jessica wrapped her arms around her stomach, resting over the cheery blue material of her scrubs with the white and pink bunnies parading across it.

“You and me both,” Jessica replied, her tone just as dark.

Dean stood and walked over to drop a kiss on Jessica’s loosely bound curls. “We’re working to stop that though, right? You and I are gonna help as many kids as we can and do as much as we can… It’s all we can do and that little boy or girl you’re carrying may get a chance to grow up in a world where this bad shit isn’t in their face twenty-four hours a day in neon colour.”

“Beautiful lie, Dean,” Jessica smiled up at him sadly.

“Let’s say hopeful dream instead,” Dean winked.

“You perving on my girl, Dean?” Sam muttered blearily from where he was buried among blankets and cushions.

“He wakes,” Dean commented. “Come on, Gigantor, let’s get you to bed. Ready to stand?”

“No,” Sam whined, burrowing down further.

“You gotta, Sammy, you stand up for me and get to bed and I’ll give you more drugs. Deal?” Dean replied.

Jessica chuckled and stood as well, coming over and carding her fingers through Sam’s shaggy locks. “Come on, Sam. I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight.”

“Dirty trick,” Sam muttered and shifted as best he could to allow Dean to gingerly help him to his feet.

“Let’s go, Kiddo,” Dean guided Sam down the hall once the three of them managed to navigate him to his feet. The older Winchester eased the younger down on the bed and Jessica followed soon after with a glass of water and a pill in hand.

“Move aside, Dean, I’m a professional,” Jessica grinned.

Dean chuckled, “Yeah, I suppose comparing Sam to a sick little kid is an apt description. I’ll leave you to it then. Night Sammy, Jess.”

“Mean,” Sam muttered. “Bye.”

“Safe trip tomorrow, Dean,” Jessica said, squeezing his arm as he moved passed her.

“Thanks Jess. Night you two.”

xx

When Dean came home that night it was to a glorious stomach-rumbling smell. Following his nose, he wandered into the kitchen to see Castiel bent down and just retrieving the roast from the oven. It looked like he had mixed potatoes, onion, and carrots in the pan as well.

“You’re an angel,” Dean murmured as he came over and took in the scent of the meal at closer range.

“No, just named after one,” Castiel flashed a grin. “Pretty far from any angel I’ve ever heard of.”

“Please, anyone who looks as great as you _and_ can cook food that smells as great as this _has_ to be an angel. Why the big to-do anyway?”

Castiel shrugged. “You’re heading back to the Academy. I’m heading back to work. Sam is well on his way to recovery. I thought we deserved it. Can I trust you with the gravy while I get this cut?”

Dean snorted, “Please, how hard can it be?”

Castiel grimaced, visions of lumpy, powdery gravy flashing through his head. “On second thought, why don’t you cut this up and I’ll make the gravy. You’ll probably make less of a mess at it than I will anyway.”

It was Dean’s turn to grimace as he remembered the last time Castiel carved a chicken he had made and the flecks of meat and grease that had subsequently been left behind on the counter. “I like the way you think.”

The meal passed in perfect domesticity and Dean relished in the rightness that had settled over them once again. Their relationship had been strained for a while now and sometimes Dean worried it would go too far to fix. He loved Cas with every fibre he possessed, but sometimes that could only take a couple so far. They were getting married though, and that thought settled warm and comfortable in his chest as he leaned across the small diagonal between them to press a gentle kiss to receptive lips.

“Hey,” Dean whispered against the pink flesh.

“Hello,” Castiel answered amused. “Jess and Sam are well?”

Dean leaned back and nodded. “Yep, Jess was a little upset when she came in tonight but I managed to talk her around. I just wish she was able to properly share, you know? I’m sure she talks to some of the people at work, but sometimes when you’re at work that’s the last thing you wanna talk about.”

Castiel smiled gently and cupped Dean’s face. “I know, and I agree. It’s remarkable how similar you and Jessica are. I wonder if Sam realizes.”

Dean laughed, “I think he’d probably be weirded out if he did. Jess and I already share a birthday as it is. I wouldn’t say we’re all that much alike, though.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t see it. Regardless though, Sam is lucky to have her.”

“I’m lucky to have you,” Dean murmured, leaning in for another kiss. 

Castiel returned it, then pulled away, chuckling, “You’re giving me cavities, Winchester.”

“Har, har,” Dean said but flashed a grin. “Dinner was great, Babe, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Castiel cautioned.

“Why?” Dean asked suspiciously.

Castiel grinned. “You get to clean up.”

xx

“Oh my god, who taught you how to cook?” Dean huffed as he flopped down next to Castiel reading in bed. “I have never seen one person make so much of a mess in my life.”

Castiel snorted, “It wasn’t that bad.”

“No, it was.”

“I beg to differ.”

“You can beg all you want, it’s not gonna change the fact that you leave disaster in your wake and the kitchen was crying by the time I had it clean, it was so grateful.”

“Inanimate objects cannot cry, Dean.”

“Ah, they so can, Cas. You really need to make it up to me ‘cause I am beyond awesome for getting that mess sorted out.”

“Oh?” Castiel closed his book with a dull snap and placed it delicately on the side table. “How do you propose I make it up to you?”

“Sexually,” Dean grinned.

“Well I gathered that,” Castiel chuckled. “Anything specific in mind?”

“Well there’s always the old standby…”

Castiel gave Dean a flat look at that one. “I am not giving you road-head on the way to the Academy.”

“Damnit… All right… Naked message?”

“Oil on the sheets.”

“Oh god… you are just the destroyer of all my fantasies tonight, aren’t you? Um…”

“I have an idea…”

Dean made a sharp sound of protest. “Hey, Mister, this is you making it up to me, why do you get to have ideas?”

“Because, my dear, mine are always infinitely better than yours.”

“Ass…” Dean muttered.

“Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

“No,” Dean retorted petulantly.

“You’re lying.”

“Dick.”

“That is part of the equation, yes.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Lame, but okay, let’s hear it.”

“Well…” Castiel rolled closer and pushed himself up until his mouth was hovering just over Dean’s own. 

“I say, we start with this,” Castiel pressed down, a deep, penetrating kiss ravishing Dean’s mouth for a moment before trailing light-as-air kisses down Dean’s jaw and neck until he found the soft patch of sensitive skin that had Dean moaning out a sigh.

“And…” Castiel continued, cool puffs of air sending jolts down Dean’s neck and spine, “see where things go from here.”

“Okay,” Dean breathed out. “Just keep doing that thing with your tongue.”

Castiel chuckled, the sound of it rumbling through Dean’s skin. “You have to be more specific. There are an awful lot of things I do with my tongue.”

Dean groaned and with a playful growl flipped Castiel onto his back. 

Castiel chuckled as the air was gently pushed out of him at the abrupt movement, which devolved very quickly into a moan as Dean began licking and kissing the sensitive jut of Castiel’s collar bone and licking a moist path up to the other man’s ear.

“I can taste your aftershave,” Dean murmured against Castiel’s soft skin.

Castiel chuckled again. “Interesting observa—” his breath hitched halfway through as Dean found a particularly sensitive spot, “-vation… to make whi…while… doing that.”

“Mmmhmm… just thought I’d share. Smell good, though, even if you taste like bug spray.”

“I don’t – ah! _fuck_ Dean – don’t make a habit of sampling bug spray so I’ll… _Jesus_ … take your word for it.”

Dean found the spot on Castiel’s shoulder that made the older man rear up against Dean. Soon, Dean found himself flat on his back with Castiel’s lips and tongue attacking whichever patch of skin he had managed to reveal. 

Dean moaned loud and throaty as Castiel’s teeth grazed over a nipple, and as cool air followed immediately in the wake of warm, damp breath. As Castiel trailed lower and lower, kissing and nipping at Dean’s belly button and abdomen, Dean scrambled with the button of his jeans and quickly moved to kick them off.

“Hey, hey careful,” Castiel laughed, stilling Dean’s legs and helping the green-eyed man out of his jeans. “You get me just right and this party will be over.”

“Sorry, been so long,” Dean managed to mutter. “Now get back down there.”

“So bossy.” Castiel, though, was more than willing to comply as he peppered kisses along Dean’s abdomen once again and trailed lower until he was nipping and sucking at the rounded jut of Dean’s hipbone. 

Dean moaned, the sound reverberating through the room as his hips lifted of their own volition.

“You keep those still,” Castiel murmured against the soft skin of Dean’s hip, giving him a gentle, teasing, open-handed smack on the curve of his thigh.

“Cas… Castiel,” Dean panted out. 

There was an unspoken plea in the simple utterance of Castiel’s name in full and, complying, Castiel bent and took Dean’s hard, waiting cock deep in his mouth. Dean groaned louder still and Castiel felt the twitch of muscle against his hands but obediently Dean kept his hips still. Castiel rewarded him with his tongue and Dean was soon panting overhead, soft breathy moans escaping as Castiel took his time sucking and licking eagerly at Dean’s cock. Dean’s strong fingers convulsively tightened and relaxed in Castiel’s hair as he fought to keep his hips still against every instinct, which was screaming at him to move. 

Cas enjoyed the heavy flesh in his mouth, the convulsion of fluid through the thick vein on the underside and the tangy salt taste of Dean leaking ever-so-slightly into his mouth. Castiel moaned around the taste and Dean whimpered from the headboard. 

Sensing the impending release, Castiel pulled back and gradually slowed before allowing Dean to slip free from his mouth with a wet, sucking pop.

Dean blinked dazedly down but made no demands and asked no further questions as Castiel snaked back up Dean’s body and kissed him slow and sensual, keeping the pleasure at a comfortable even thrum as he reached beside them and pulled out a familiar tube.

“You going to help me with this, or are you going to watch?” Castiel asked and teasingly wiggled the tube.

Dean closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Smart boy,” Castiel drawled, his voice rough and sex-laden.

“But you…” Dean drifted.

“Your night, Sweetheart,” Castiel murmured, gently kissing the younger man and trailing lazy kisses down his jaw and up his neck again.

Quick, precise motions had Castiel stripped and flat on his back in seconds, leaving the blue-eyed man blinking dazedly up for only a second before he groaned and closed his eyes as slick, cool fingers danced around his entrance.

“Right to it, then,” Castiel breathed out.

“Mmmhmm,” Dean hummed around his kisses. 

Castiel arched and gasped into Dean’s lips as the other man unerringly found the small nub of pleasure within Castiel on the first shot, and soon the inevitable pain of Dean stretching and preparing him became secondary to the jolt that shot through Castiel with each skilled brush of Castiel’s prostate. 

“So vocal tonight,” Dean remarked.

“Uhn…” was Castiel’s articulate response as he panted and waited for Dean to just get on with it already and stop teasing him. He was about to make his impatience known clearly when the first press of Dean’s swollen cock at his ready entrance had his eyes rolling back and his body arching up.

“God, Cas… love you like this,” Dean whispered.

“What did we—” another gasp interrupted, following a particularly pointed thrust, “—we say about sweet ta...talk… Winchester?”

“Shove it,” Dean murmured. “True though, ready and willing for me like this… So good.”

“Then show me rather than waxing – _fuck_! – poetic about it.”

Dean complied, and began slowly thrusting forward, teasing as he peppered light kisses down Castiel’s jaw and up his neck. The blue-eyed man was arching and moaning into him, panting as Dean strained to keep up the steady rhythm and not just go for broke. It may be his night, as Castiel so graciously said earlier, but he wanted Castiel to enjoy this as much as humanly possible.

Dean moaned out particularly harshly as Castiel tightened around him, all slick heat and quivering muscle. Liking the sound, Castiel did it again, wrenching another throaty moan free from Dean. 

“Dean…” Castiel whispered against Dean’s shoulder, eyes screwed up tight, the single word begging Dean for what the other man needed.

“Yes, Cas?” Dean whispered, “What do you want? Tell me, Babe.”

“Harder, Dean, fuck. ‘Nough… fucking teasing…”

Dean had held back for about as long as he could anyway, surrounded so completely by the perfect fit of Castiel, and with one sharp thrust he began to quicken his pace. He had Castiel crying out sharply and pleasantly surprised beneath him before the older man quieted again and rode out the feeling. He matched each of Dean’s movements with a counter thrust of his own, hand convulsively grasping at the skin of Dean’s back.

Dean stilled just as suddenly as he began, panting harshly into Castiel’s skin, “Want you to ride me.”

Castiel nodded hazily and with practised movement the older man had them flipped and himself positioned over Dean, waiting and straining. 

Castiel breathed in before releasing it slowly and then lowered himself down; he winced only slightly at the sudden angle change but relaxed quickly around the familiarity of Dean’s cock deep inside him, and it was his turn to be a tease. 

Dean immediately regretted his request and rejoiced in it all the same as the shift allowed him to sink impossibly deeper inside Castiel.

“Cas, please, fuck me,” Dean panted.

Castiel shifted, braced his hands on Dean’s chest, and began to ride Dean in earnest. 

Dean’s gasps turned to moans and faint cries as Castiel moved and once he felt his orgasm approaching rapidly, he slicked his palm and reached forward to take Castiel’s leaking cock in hand. 

The move startled a happy groan from Castiel and his eyes fluttered, thrusts jumping for a moment before they found their rhythm again. A few quick, hurried thrusts later, Dean was releasing deep inside Castiel and the warm wash of Castiel’s cum trickled down onto his chest. Dean blinked, breathed, and went limp on the bed, his arms splayed to the sides. Castiel was frozen over him, panting, still with his eyes closed before he cracked them open with a grin.

“Pretty good, huh?” Dean chuckled.

“Yes, quite. Guess what happens now, though…” Castiel teased, eyes dancing. “You’re about to get very, very sticky.”

Dean groaned, not at all pleased this time, and threw an arm over his eyes as Castiel eased himself up and off, collapsing on his back next to Dean, neck cradled on Dean’s still splayed left arm.

“I’ll shower in a minute,” Dean muttered.

“Mmmhmm…” Castiel murmured beside him, eyes drifting closed.

xx

Dean woke up to his and Castiel’s dried semen on his chest and stomach. So much for that shower he had planned on before bed. Regardless though, Dean felt pleasantly buzzed and comfortable, as somehow in the night they had migrated so that Dean was on his side facing away from Castiel and Castiel was pressed against his back, cheek and nose resting between Dean’s shoulder blades. Dean sighed happily, debated on just going back to sleep, when his alarm decided it was time to get his ass out of bed.

“Damnit,” Dean muttered into his pillow.

“Shut that fucking thing up. Alarms should be illegal on Sundays,” Castiel grumbled sleepily from behind Dean, pulling away and rolling onto his other side. 

Dean lamented the loss of warmth for a moment while at the same time he slapped his hand on the snooze button of his clock.

Dean relished the quiet for just a beat before nudging Castiel’s back with his own. “You coming with me?”

“Do I have to get out of bed?” Castiel muttered from where his face was half buried in his pillow.

“That’s the general idea,” Dean replied, sitting up and stretching.

There was a full minute of silence before a grumbled, “…Maybe.” 

Dean chuckled, “All right. Well, I’m going to shower, feel free to join me if you’re so inclined.”

His only response was more of Castiel’s muttering into his pillow.

xx

Castiel surprised Dean later that morning by slumping to the kitchen, hair damp and dripping from the shower he must have just taken.

“Hey,” Dean smiled, going over to the machine to put more coffee on. He slid his own barely-touched coffee to the older man, who accepted it and lumbered to his usual spot at the kitchen table.

“I have to—” Castiel yawned, “—call my brother and see if he can send me a car for when I come back tonight.”

“Cas, you really don’t have to—”

“Dean, I’m out of bed now. Change your mind on pain of death.”

“All right, all right,” Dean chuckled. “Well, I appreciate it then… I ah… probably won’t be coming home for a while…”

“I assumed as much,” Castiel said neutrally.

“You gonna be okay?” 

“I’m a grown man, Dean. I’ll be able to handle a few weeks without you. It will only be until the Christmas party, right?”

“Yeah, you can still make that?” Dean asked hopefully. “You’re gonna have to probably take Friday off.”

“Yes, Dean. Ellen promised,” Castiel nodded.

“Good, ‘cause I promised Sam that after the Christmas holidays, if I hadn’t found anything, I’d back off and pull out of the mission. He seems to think that there’s nothing else to find after you guys busted open that whorehouse.” Dean was leaning back against the counter and watching Castiel carefully.

“You think otherwise,” Castiel stated rather than asked.

“I do.”

“I see.”

Dean was silent while he waited for Castiel to elaborate. When the agent didn’t, Dean shifted anxiously and prompted, “You? What do you think?”

“I’ve always trusted your intuition, Dean,” Castiel replied cryptically.

“It doesn’t always pan out,” Dean reminded.

“Regardless. If you feel there is something more to discover, then I will not dispute that.”

Dean huffed and poured himself a cup of coffee, slamming the pot back harder than necessary.

Castiel quirked a brow. “Do you want me to?”

“What?” Dean asked a little testily.

“Dispute your intuition.”

“Yes, no… I don’t know, Cas! I don’t do this for living like you guys do. What if I’m just beating a dead horse because I’m so desperate to play hero for a change? What if I won’t listen to you two because I want to make my own splash and not just fade into the background like I’ve been doing since I was fucking four years old?”

“Dean,” Castiel blinked, genuinely taken aback, “where is this coming from?”

Dean shook his head. “Never mind. It’s stupid. I just feel like I have to see this thing through and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“I’d expect nothing less of you, Dean,” Castiel said gently, standing and coming over to the green-eyed man. “You’re righteous and true with a beautiful soul and you never want to see any innocent person upset or injured or in trouble. 

“You have always seen everything you do right through to the end, be it taking care of your brother or starting a project or whatever it may be. Even if it’s unpleasant or uncomfortable for you. You don’t give up, you don’t waver and you may be so terrified you want to run but you never, ever run. 

“So why on Earth would I ask you at this moment to change the very person you are? If you feel there is more work to be done, then I will support you. I brought you into this, Dean, and I owe it to you for more reasons than that alone to see it through to the end with you.”

Dean leaned forward and kissed Castiel thoroughly before pulling back with a smile. “When was the last time you strung that many words together this early in the morning?”

Castiel chuckled, “Shut up.”

“Ah…” Dean grinned, “there he is.”

**End Chapter**


	17. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter and it's a little plotty but it also feels filler-like to me. Anyway, parts of it were fun so please enjoy!
> 
> Special Thanks to **Dapperscript** for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
> 
> Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information

  


Dean was a little surprised about how lonely he felt once he returned to work. Coming home to an empty apartment with nothing but his grading and lesson planning to keep him company was a little bit depressing. He was calling Castiel more and figured the older man, fiancé or no, was kind of sick of him by now. Regardless, the weeks flew by when Dean was surrounded by his kids and Christmas was very nearly upon them. It also seemed as if Sam had been right. The only progress that Dean had made with Jesse was academic, which was good for Jesse, of course, but bad for the case. There was still something that niggled at the back of Dean’s mind and twisted uncomfortably, though.

A knock startled him away from the math test papers he had splayed on his lap and he looked over, blinking at the door. Another knock and Dean figured he’d better answer it.

“Good evening, Dean.”

“Hello, Alec,” Dean smiled back, pleased to see the man even though it was an unexpected visit.

“Thought I’d see how you were; you’ve been with us for an entire term now and I just wanted to check in. Also, to see how many guests you will be bringing to the Headmaster’s Christmas Gala. I do hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, not at all. Come on in.” Dean stepped clear of the door and Alec entered graciously. He stood politely until Dean offered him a seat, and once he was down he held out a bag.

“My mother taught me to never arrive at a person’s home empty handed. Do you enjoy scotch?” 

Surprised, Dean took the bottle and smiled; it was a little strained, though. “Ah… used to. Yeah.”

“Not a drinker?” Alec nodded.

“No… um… lost my taste for it after University,” Dean grinned, abashed. He felt a little guilty lying so blatantly to the other man but the truth was not at all appealing to share either. “My fiancé enjoys the occasional drink, though.”

Alec smiled. “Glad it will be of use then. How are you finding your classroom Dean? Everything up to snuff?”

Dean sat down after putting away the bottle and telling himself to forget where he put it the moment Alec left. 

He was pretty good with controlling himself. He was never really a hardcore alcoholic –  
technically only borderline; but that line was incredibly thin and he wasn’t about to risk his life or career by tripping over it. When he was home with Cas, he let himself have a sip or two, but never more than that and it was easy with Castiel watching him with keen blue eyes. His choice to stop was a personal one, a decision he made on his own before he wandered down that path. After what happened with Lisa, he felt it was the best choice for him. Though by himself, a sip could easily become a glass and a glass could easily become two, then more.

“Yeah, it’s great. The kids are fantastic and they’ve always all been brilliant but I do feel as if they are improving even further. I really think I’m making some progress, especially with a few students who were performing at lower levels than their classmates. Also, socially. Many of them were incredibly shy when we first met and they’ve all warmed up to me now.” 

Dean knew he was wearing that goofy grin that always had Castiel and Sam sharing a quizzical eyebrow. The man on the couch with him was a colleague though, and the only look Dean was receiving from Alec was one of understanding.

“Excellent to hear it, I won’t delay you much longer, I assure you. I’d just like to know how many guests I can expect you to bring to the party.”

“Not a problem, and just the one. I had planned on more but things… ah… came up, so just one,” Dean said.

“All right, child or adult?” Alec asked.

“Oh, ah… adult. No kids,” Dean said.

Alec blinked. “Oh, forgive me for saying so but I was almost certain you had a child. I must have been mistaken. I do apologize.”

Dean looked down at his toes and answered quietly, “It’s all right.”

“Well you and I will be in the same group then. We’re the minority at this school. I’ve just one adult guest myself. Shall I seat us together?” Alec offered.

Dean grinned, a little relieved. He didn’t want Castiel to have to be surrounded by happy, child-having families. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Excellent. We’ll have great fun. These celebrations always are magnificent. Good night, Dean. Thank you for allowing my sudden imposition.”

“No problem. Really, you can stop by again if you like. I enjoy the company,” Dean walked Alec to the door.

“Well, Dean, I may just take you up on that. Ta!” Alec left with a jaunty wave over his shoulder and Dean waved back.

“See you!”

Dean shut and locked the door, noticing the sudden silence of the apartment as he went back to his test papers. Glancing at his phone, he wondered if it was too late to call Castiel.

xx

The kids were buzzing around the room like frenzied fruit flies and Dean greatly regretted bringing in the cake that afternoon. Apparently, no matter how rich and affluent children were, they still were affected by sugar just like any other group of eight-year-olds. 

Though a headache was gradually beginning to throb, Dean still found himself grinning as he watched them zigzag around the room with gleeful voices and happy faces. This was what teaching was, to see these smiles on these faces. Well, most of them. 

Jesse was off in the corner at the front of the room, surrounded by cushions and reading with yet another massive novel on his lap. It was still geared towards young adults, though, so Dean didn’t have to be too concerned with it. A final glance around the room assured him that no one was at risk of serious bodily harm and he wandered over to sit next to Jesse.

“Hey Jesse, why aren’t you playing with the other kids?” Dean asked gently.

Jesse shrugged and turned a page on his book. “I don’t feel like playing.”

“You not feel like playing a lot?” Dean asked carefully.

“Father says play is unnecessary. He wants me to learn the family business,” Jesse replied. “Mother agrees. Mother wishes for me to sit quietly while she entertains her… _girls_ and not trouble her.”

Dean winced at that one. “Anyone else look after you, though?”

Jesse was very quiet for several moments before he closed his book and began running his finger absently across the raised letters of the title. “Nannies.”

“You have one in particular?”

“I used to. I really liked her. She was nice to me but a little weird. She used to be one of mother’s girls, but mother saw her talking to me one day and then she became my nanny.”

“Oh? She’s not anymore?”

“No. Ruby died.” Jesse stood then, with no further word, and crossed the room to the closed classroom door. He opened it and disappeared down the hall.

“Jesus,” Dean hissed. The teacher crossed the room in a flash and pulled out his Blackberry, hitting the speed dial for Castiel’s direct work line and waiting anxiously.

“Dean?” The surprised voice came across the line after a few agonizing rings.

“Ruby. The one you have locked up, she’s not dead is she?” 

“Dean, aren’t you working?” Castiel asked.

Dean figured this wasn’t the most appropriate conversation to be having while fifteen eight year olds were tramping around his classroom, but the Teaching Gods would forgive him just this once. “Cas, this is important.”

“I’m checking,” Castiel answered distractedly and Dean picked up on the faint clacking of the laptop keys. “No, she’s quite alive.”

“I wonder if…” Dean mused. “Get someone in to talk to her. I think I may have discovered why Ruby was so willing to help after all. Jesse just told me that a nanny he had that he was really close to was named Ruby, and that she died. I wonder if she was sniffing around a little too much and Lilith cut her loose, telling Jesse she died so Jesse wouldn’t fight to have her back… Not that Jesse seems like he’d ever put up much of a fight, but maybe that’s only because he learned his lesson in the past. Not to get too close to anyone. Ruby may know more than she led us to believe, and if we encourage her by using Jesse she may just fess up.”

“All right, Dean,” Castiel agreed without even hesitating. “Excellent work. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Good luck, Cas,” Dean said. “And be careful.”

“You as well.”

Dean hung up the phone and bounced it off his lip for a moment before pasting a smile back on his face and turning to the children. “All right. Story anyone?”

The least Dean could do was try to calm them before their parents and heads of houses came to get them.

xx

“Cas, what did you find out?” Dean demanded as soon as Castiel crossed the threshold of Dean’s faculty apartment.

“Nice to see you as well, Dean,” Castiel smiled wryly. 

“Cut the bullshit. What’s up?” Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head and dropped his bag and coat at the front door, walked tiredly over to the chair and sat down in it. Dean picked up the coat and ran the bag to the bedroom before coming over and sitting on the edge of the couch on the end nearest Castiel, anxious hands clasped between his knees.

“Nothing, Dean,” Castiel sighed. “I went to see her myself.”

“Then how the hell did you find out nothing?” 

“Dean, Jesse’s nanny was a different Ruby. The Ruby we have locked up hadn’t even heard of her and made it quite clear that she detested children.”

Dean made a face; now he just hated the bitch with more of a fiery passion than before. Dean slumped against the back of the couch and squeezed the bridge of his nose, letting out an explosive sigh. They were at yet another dead-end and no closer to catching Lilith, or finding anything out. 

The warehouse could only be linked to Lilith and Crowley circumstantially, and though the investigation did put a bit of a crimp in their ultimate plans, they had the resources to just build it up again once the heat was off. Dean wanted something concrete to put both Lilith and Crowley away with, and he was beginning to fear he wasn’t going to get it.

He blinked open green eyes as he felt Castiel settle - warm and familiar - over him, straddling his legs and placing light kisses on Dean’s neck and jaw before he captured Dean’s lips and proceeded to demonstrate just how much Castiel had missed his fiancé. 

Despite everything, Dean found himself moaning into the kiss and shifting from his prone position under Castiel in order to gain more friction as Castiel slowly moved against him.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said against Dean’s lips.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean grinned.

“It’s been two weeks and four days.”

“It has,” Dean agreed.

“You know how upset I get when I go this long without getting laid.”

“I do.”

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Dean chuckled, “Are you going to stay awake?”

Castiel frowned. “Damn.”

“That’s what I thought. Get up, Gorgeous, let’s go to sleep. You have full permission to wake me up in the middle of the night if you get horny… hornier.”

“Deal,” Castiel nodded solemnly. The blue-eyed man moved to get up but Dean was faster and managed to grab him and throw Castiel over his shoulder, which elicited an ungainly shriek from the older man. Dean laughed as he carried the struggling Castiel to the bedroom.

“Put me down, Dean,” Castiel demanded.

Dean only laughed, then unceremoniously dropped Castiel onto the mattress. 

With a squawk, Castiel bounced once and glared up through the gloom at Dean.

“That was unpleasant.”

“Oh, but so much fun for me,” Dean grinned, coming around so he could reach Castiel and helping him free of his clothes. 

Castiel watched, amused, as Dean folded each item of clothing and placed them on a small chair in the corner of the room, then paused and turned back to Castiel.

“These clean, or do they need to be washed?”

“I put them on just before I left,” Castiel shrugged. 

Dean nodded and didn’t move them again. 

Castiel shivered in the cool room and shimmed under the blankets, waiting for Dean to finish puttering around the bedroom and join him. The younger man tossed a pair of pajama pants at Castiel and a long-sleeved T-shirt for good measure.

“Heating in this place sucks,” Dean offered, though he himself only wore pajama pants to bed.

Castiel nodded and accepted the items with a soft thank you. They both belonged to Dean, and the shirt was actually one of his favourites simply because of how ridiculously soft it was.

“So, Sam’s been telling me he’s good, but is he lying through his teeth?” Dean asked, curling around Castiel who lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

Castiel trailed his hand down Dean’s arm, relishing the closeness and wishing he was more awake to enjoy the time with Dean, but he had the next four days to enjoy his time with Dean, so it wasn’t at all a loss.

Castiel pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead. He always forgot how much he hated sleeping alone until he didn’t have to, and nodded into the darkness, stifling a yawn. “No, he’s doing really well. The doctors are always impressed by how quickly he heals.”

Dean nodded. “That’s good. I hate when that kid lies to me. He can’t really get away with it unless he’s on the phone, though.”

“Well I assure you, he’s being honest,” Castiel smiled. “He’s taking to physiotherapy quite well and walking with relative ease now. I had to take him the other weekend because Jess covered a co-worker’s shift. Sam was the best gimp in there.”

Dean grinned, “Good. God, being away from you guys is torture.”

“One more week,” Castiel said.

Dean nodded absently. “Get some sleep, Cas, you’re fading fast and I want you to look good tomorrow when I show you off.”

Castiel chuckled gently, “I always look good.”

“True.” 

It wasn’t long before Castiel was out. It was unusual for Dean to be awake later than Castiel, and he felt strange hearing the soft breathing and feeling the still form of his fiancé underneath him. Dean rolled gently away and was met with sleepy protest, but Castiel did not wake up. 

Dean stared at the ceiling and blinked into the dark. He failed Jesse, again. Ruby was a damn dead end and Dean was running out of options. He also had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that had been building gradually for the last several weeks. He couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was, but he was almost certain the shit was about to hit the fan and he was quickly spinning out of control. 

Dean groaned softly and tried to stop his thoughts and just sleep. He was grateful that the faculty had the day off tomorrow as a pre-Christmas present; the only condition was that everyone had to show up at the Headmaster’s party tomorrow night unless they had a damn good excuse.

Dean eased out of bed and shucked off his pajama pants, wincing slightly as he opened his drawer with a faint squeak and pulled out a pair of workout pants and his hoodie. He slipped into his scuffed runners and grabbed his set of keys from beside the door.

Dean hissed at the coolness in the air as he left the faculty apartment building and jogged across the quad to the main building that housed the gymnasiums, and the headmaster’s apartment. Dean pressed the back of his key card to the small black box, and the click sounded gently into the night as the door opened for him. There was no alarm on the building itself. Faculty were welcome to come and go as they pleased, in case they needed to access the reference room at night, or wanted to do exactly what Dean was aiming for.

He padded across the silent office, the quiet of the school building not at all unsettling for Dean, but rather one of the most soothing places for him. There was the large gym for the kids, but there was also the smaller faculty gym with workout equipment and a fair-sized exercise room. Dean opened his locker and put his scuffed runners away, slipping into his soft-soled gym shoes and pulling out a pair of slender boxing gloves. He made quick work of wrapping his hands and pulled the gloves on. 

Dean eased out a few tension-laden breaths as he warmed up, then proceeded to show the punching bag exactly what fifteen years of boxing did for a man. He was breathing steadily and sweating heavily by the time he heard a voice behind him utter a note of surprise.

“Dean!” 

Dean turned and blinked, stilling the punching bag and turning. “Oh, Alec. Hi.”

“You box?” Alec asked, though the question was kind of pointless, given how Alec had just found him.

“Yeah, hobby I picked up… Well, it became a hobby. It started as an anger management tool that was court appointed when I was in high school.” Dean winced. Oops. Yes, because admitting your delinquent past to your superior was a _smart_ move.

“You’re angry?” Alec ventured hesitantly.

Dean chuckled, “No, stressed. I’m good, though. Couldn’t sleep. Decided to come here. What brings you around?”

“Oh ah… had some research for my article to do. I find my best work is done at night; I saw the light on and wanted to make sure it wasn’t left on from earlier today.”

Dean stretched out his muscles as he asked, “Article?”

“Yes, yes, silly thing. Child Behaviour in Private education versus Public… Well, it’s much more in depth than that, I assure you, but I’m sure you don’t want to me going into it in the middle of your workout,” Alec waved it off as if he was embarrassed.

“Cool. Honest, though? I haven’t noticed much of a difference,” Dean quirked a grin.

Alec laughed then, “Yes, quite, that’s what I’m theorizing. Children are children regardless of where they come from and they should be treated as such.”

Dean grinned, “I agree completely.”

“I’ll let you get back to it, then. Sorry for interrupting,” Alec smiled.

“Hey, no worries, Man. Good luck with the article,” Dean nodded and realized how damn warm he was. He slipped out of his hoodie and saw Alec blush faintly and flick his gaze away. Dean quirked a brow and mentally shrugged. “Night.”

“Y… yes, good night,” Alec said quickly and hurried out of the room.

Dean finished up shortly after and was sure to hit the lights on his way out. He felt better and tired as hell now, which was fantastic. 

Not only did he not have to get up early, he had a very warm, hopefully still sleepy and cuddly Castiel waiting for him back at his apartment. Dean grinned and zipped up his hoodie, even if he didn’t feel the winter wind as prominently on his workout-warmed skin. 

When he got into the apartment and shut and locked the door behind him, he heard faint rustling from the bedroom. He entered to see Castiel heavy lidded and pushed half up on an elbow.

“You smell like a baseball team,” Castiel remarked.

“Been with many baseball teams?” Dean teased.

Castiel grinned into the dark, white teeth flashing. “Well there was that one time in sophomore year…”

Dean wrinkled up his nose. “Is this a real orgy story or a fake orgy story?”

Castiel flopped back down and laughed, “I’ve only ever had _one_ orgy. One, and it was four beautiful girls who had a coven and needed a male… um… participant for their ritual. It was extremely spiritual.”

“Dude, you’re the only guy I know who has even ever _had_ an orgy. So straight-laced too…” Dean flashed a grin in the dark. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Mmmhmm…” Castiel mused distractedly.

“Stop thinking about your orgy!” Dean shouted over his shoulder.

“You’re just jealous,” Castiel shouted back.

As Dean had assumed, it wasn’t long after he began sluicing the sweat off his skin in the shower, that he felt arms wrap around his torso and lips press to the knobs of his spine.

“I promise to stay awake now,” Castiel murmured against Dean’s wet skin.

“I need to work off the last bit of adrenaline anyway,” Dean said idly, then turned. He smoothly lifted Castiel and pressed him against the wall. Castiel hissed out a breath as the cool tiles made contact with his sleep and water warmed skin.

“I promise to think of you the entire time and not my orgy,” Castiel said solemnly.

“Ass,” Dean murmured. “If I have my way, you won’t be able to think at all.”

“Promises, pro—” Castiel was cut off very pleasantly by the slide of Dean’s lips against his own.

**End Chapter**


	18. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A line in this chapter is adapted from Episode 4x22 "Lucifer Rising."
> 
> Special Thanks to for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
> 
> Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information

Dean always knew what a figure Castiel cut in a well-tailored suit, but some times it just hit deeper than others that Dean was going to marry this man. This gorgeous, wonderful, intelligent man. Dean whistled low as Castiel made his way out of the bathroom, hair expertly quaffed, and elegant fingers clasping his cufflinks. 

“I’m sorry, should I spin, or can you ogle well enough from this angle?” Castiel remarked wryly.

“Spin,” Dean grinned.

“I’m not spinning.”

“Spoil-sport. But damn, Cas, you look good. New suit?”

“Yes, I thought this occasion warranted one. You can only wear FBI black so often without wanting a change.”

“All the girls are going to be ridiculously jealous when I walk in with you on my arm. Oh, speaking of, we’re sitting with my Department Head tonight.”

Castiel quirked and eyebrow. “Are you Teacher’s Pet?”

“Ha, ha. No, but by the sounds of it a lot of the staff have kids so he figured the two of us may feel more comfortable with him and his date. I thought it wouldn’t hurt, given…”

Castiel’s face went a little dark and he nodded stiffly. “I imagine that’s for the best. As much as I love children, I don’t really have much to say to parents… Family aside, of course, those children I share a part of.”

“Hey, are you all right? I know it’s kind of close to—”

“Dean.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded taking the hint. “Well, Gorgeous. Ready to go?”

“Yes, I’m set. Lead on.”

They decided against grabbing their overcoats considering they were just walking to the Hall on the other side of the campus. 

The Hall was a classic old style with paneled everything and richly curtained high windows. It also served as a theatre with a stage at the far end that was added later on when the old house became a school. Dean knew that along with the dinner and dancing, a few of the classrooms and clubs would be performing tonight. A few of his kids were in the Primary Choir and he looked forward to seeing them. It also gave him an opportunity to meet some of the parents who had come in from out of town.

“I’ll be working a little tonight,” Dean said as they began crunching through the light dusting of snow that the small plow hadn’t quite picked up. They walked close enough that their shoulders bumped, hands buried in their pockets against the chill. He felt Castiel nod beside him and stole a glance to read the expression on his fiancé’s face.

“I imagined so,” Castiel said easily. “I’ll be fine.”

“It’ll be brief, I don’t want to take away anyone’s night, but I like to meet the parents at least once, you know? It’ll help me leave some notes for whoever is coming in to take over when I head back.”

Castiel nudged him; Dean stumbled a bit, having been caught off guard. He looked up to see Castiel’s eyes flashing teasingly and a small smile curling the edge of his lips.

“It’s all right, Dean.”

Dean nudged Castiel back but the older man’s balance was better and he hardly even faltered in his steps. 

On a normal night during a winter walk, Dean might have just taken this opportunity to get a little payback for the nudge, but pushing Castiel down in a snow bank would probably not garner him any favours even if Castiel would be grinning the entire time. Besides, he didn’t want to show up to the party snow covered and wet.

“I know what you’re thinking, Winchester and don’t you dare.”

Dean laughed and skipped a few steps ahead of Castiel to pull open the door to Crawford Hall. 

Castiel tipped his head in thanks and crossed the threshold. 

It wasn’t difficult to find their way after that – cheerful voices, festive music, and bright lights from the massive Christmas tree guided the way.

The hall was tastefully decorated without being over-the-top and several round tables with seating for six people each were scattered around at various points in the room. The glittering Christmas tree was in the far corner of the room, pulled back from the wall with enough space to circle it and view all sides. There was space in front for dancing later and for the children to sit while ‘Santa’ handed out their presents.

The small gifts Dean bought for his kids were already neatly wrapped and under the tree. Last week, the elementary teachers got together for a small party of their own and to wrap the gifts. It had been fun, and even though Dean loved his school back in Boston and his friends there, he would miss some of the Academy’s people as well. He’d also miss his new group of kids without a doubt. 

Dean looked around for his students and found a few of them, but it was still a bit early so many would probably not trickle in until closer to dinner. 

Jesse was notably absent.

“Is he here?” Castiel asked idly, as usual sensing Dean’s thoughts.

“No. I didn’t really expect him to be,” Dean replied, shaking his head. 

After Jesse left the classroom the previous afternoon, Dean hadn’t seen him again. He called the front office to check in and the secretary told him Jesse had been signed out and picked up by one of his nannies a few minutes earlier. Dean worried a little over that, but Nell wouldn’t have let Jesse go off with a stranger and he didn’t let himself worry too much. 

Castiel made a small sound of acknowledgement and followed Dean through the crowd. They were told they were at table eight just before they entered the hall, and that’s where Dean was attempting to guide them. Castiel was looking around the room out of Dean’s line of sight, habits of years of service with both the military and the FBI getting the best of him – _watch your partner’s back_ – which is why it was Dean who spotted her first, though he didn’t know who she was until after.

“Dean!”

Dean turned and smiled, seeing Alec standing up from his seat and waving Dean over. A lovely, dark haired woman was seated at his side, a small smile playing at her lips. Dean assumed she was the mysterious date Alec was bringing. They were the only two at the table so far. 

Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand and turned sharply towards their table, weaving easily through the crowd. Castiel was still staring curiously around the room, taking in the decorations and faces of the other attendees.

“Hey Alec, how are you tonight?” Dean smiled.

“Excellent, and you?”

“Good, good,” Dean replied.

“I’d like you to meet Meg, my charming date for this evening,” Alec said. 

At that, Castiel’s head whipped around and he sucked in a sharp breath. Meg however, remained calm and almost aloof, but continued to wear a slight smile. She didn’t acknowledge him except for the slight narrowing of her chocolate coloured eyes.

“Hi Meg, I’m Dean. Alec, Meg, this is Castiel, my fiancé.”

Meg’s eyes narrowed a little more at that proclamation but it went unnoticed by Dean. Dean was more concerned with the reaction from Alec, whose only slight tell of surprise was the minute raising of his eyebrows before he smoothed it off nonchalantly and held out a hand to Castiel.

“Wonderful to meet you, Castiel,” Alec said.

Castiel started, blinking absently before Dean bumped him with a knee and Castiel jolted back to himself. “Yes, yes. You too.” They shook hands. 

Meg rose lithely and held out a dainty hand. “Pleased to meet you both,” she murmured. 

“Shall we sit?” Alec gestured after the final greetings were exchanged. 

Dean nodded and complied, still relatively oblivious to the tension that was radiating between Castiel and Meg, and also oblivious to the knowing smile curling her red-painted lips. Castiel, for his part, sat stiff and reserved next to Dean, but that was pretty common behaviour when Castiel was out in an unfamiliar setting and Dean didn’t take any particular note of it.

Dean and Alec continued to chat idly about the school, students, and Dean’s plans for the classroom. 

Castiel, who would normally be paying at least half-attention to the conversation, was sitting very rigid and still, constantly shooting somewhat panicked glances over to Meg, who was coolly sipping her champagne and watching Castiel with dancing, amused eyes. Castiel had, of course, mentioned having an ex-girlfriend named Meg and he never took great pains to describe her to the younger man. Dean just wasn’t interested. A part of Castiel, however, was still petrified that Dean would figure them out, and then Castiel’s guilt of that forgotten night would return full force. He still wished he knew entirely what had happened, if only to get Gabriel off his back. If Castiel could remember, maybe he could confess to Dean and then everything would be all right. Castiel thought maybe that was a bit of a long shot but he could still hope. If only he could remember.

When two more guests arrived, the fifth grade teacher and her husband, it was a temporary reprieve of Meg’s cat-grin and sparking eyes – extremely temporary. 

The new arrivals (Castiel had already forgotten their names) immediately joined Dean and Alec in a heated discussion on the Nature versus Nurture debate and how much parents could be blamed for the behaviour of their children. Castiel would normally have some points to weigh in, but he was too caught up in his minor panic attacked and remained studiously silent. 

Dean finally took notice.

“Hey, Cas, you all right? You’ve been real quiet, Man,” Dean murmured lowly.

Castiel startled. “I… perhaps the air in here is stuffy… I just feel… Out of sorts.”

“Oh dear,” Meg said saccharinely. “I hope you aren’t coming down with something… Castiel? Was it? I hear there’s a flu going around.”

“Yes, well… I feel ill, but not in the way the flu would cause,” Castiel grimaced, glaring at Meg.

“Hey, you wanna go outside for a bit?” Dean asked gently.

“I’ll just go somewhere quieter,” Castiel smiled. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“I can come with you,” Dean offered.

“No, no, you stay. I’ll be all right.” Castiel waved it off and pushed away from the table. 

The minute he was away from Meg he felt some of the tension ease from his body. He had no concerns that she would reveal anything to Dean in his absence. She would have nothing to gain from that, and the middle of a party for children was not the place to bring up indiscretions anyway… If there had been any indiscretions, of which Castiel still had his doubts.

Just sitting across the table from her made his stomach rebel. He couldn’t imagine getting any closer. Castiel, right now, just wanted to stay as far away as possible from her and figure out what her game was. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe her being here was just happenstance… No way in hell.

Castiel was left thankfully alone for several minutes. He was sitting in the foyer in a convenient chair that was placed tastefully against the wall in a set, a potted plant between them. He felt protected behind his plant. He certainly didn’t want to encounter Meg again and had no way to explain his admittedly odd behaviour to Dean. Dean was working, Dean was busy, and Castiel didn’t want to bother him even if he had known how to explain. 

He caught glimpses now and again through the two sets of double doors. Clearly, some children and their parents had arrived and Dean was flashing them all winning smiles, a glowing beacon in a crowded room. Castiel had always admired that about Dean. He could work a crowd like a celebrity even if at his core he was a relatively shy man.

“Surprise, surprise. The great Castiel L’Ange running again…” an all too familiar voice purred. Castiel whipped his head up and clashed gazes with Meg. 

“How you doing, Baby? Miss me?” the woman asked with a grin.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Castiel let slip the harsh whisper, glaring into the woman’s eyes as he rose.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Geeze, Angel, relax. Complete coincidence.”

“Bullshit.”

“Careful, Cassy, children around,” Meg sang as she wandered closer to him and idly began stroking her finger down the leaves of the plant. She stood close enough to Castiel that she could be heard without being overheard. Castiel was glad to note the absence of that awful perfume from the night at the club. How he remembered that, he didn’t know.

“Alec and I are old pals,” she said with a disarming grin. “Poor thing didn’t want to come to this god-awful bash by himself… again. So I graciously agreed to step in.”

“Old pals,” Castel repeated flatly.

“Yessir,” Meg grinned.

Castiel sighed and shook his head, slumping back down in his previous safe-haven of the chair, cradling his head in his hands and hiding his eyes. “What do you want, Meg?”

Meg remained silent for several painful seconds before he heard the soft whispering of her gown as she bent closer to him. “Just thought you might want round two.”

Castiel’s head snapped up again and he jumped away from the chair, spinning way from her and leaving his back to the entrance of the hall. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She stepped closer until she could rest her hand on his chest. He briefly noticed her eyes flick over his shoulder but was too busy trying to keep from smacking her across her smug face to bother to see what temporarily caught her attention.

“Aww… I’m hurt, Cassy. And we had such a good time that night… Your stupid brother didn’t even know and we were under his own damn roof.” She crept infinitesimally closer and Castiel felt his skin crawl. He took a convulse step back but her hand slithered snake-like from his chest to grip at his bicep. Her long red nails dug through the material of his suit until he felt their pressure on the skin of his arm. 

Meg continued, “You, me… all alone in the dark… just like old times. It was only a few weeks ago, Castiel, I really must say I’m hurt that it slipped your mind so easily. Your little slut know about it? Oh, I’m sorry, _fiancé_?”

“What’s going on?”

Castiel froze, his blood draining completely away from his face as he spun on his heel, at last freeing himself from Meg’s grip to see the stricken face of Dean looking between the agent and the petite brunette at his side.

“Oops… Guess that’s a no…” Meg said brightly; she sauntered over to Dean, patting his arm. “Do you know all the things your lovely little agent gets up to in the dark, Dean-o?” Meg winked, “Cuz I sure do.”

“What?” Dean blinked. “Cas, what is she…?”

“Dean,” Castiel said desperately.

“Cas… what’s going on?” Dean began backing away, narrowing his eyes at the blue-eyed man.

“Cat’s outta the bag, Cassy… You know where to find me, it’s been fun,” she winked again and flounced away, disappearing into the crowd in the hall beyond.

“Castiel, what’s going on?” Dean asked lowly, coming very close to the older man, green eyes flashing.

Castiel winced. “Dean… I… I’m not…”

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ bullshit me,” Dean growled. He flicked his gaze around the foyer, before grabbing Castiel not so gently by the elbow and directing him out into the cold night. Already upset from the earlier encounter, Castiel immediately began shivering as the snow began to gently fall around them.

“Dean I _don’t know_ ,” Castiel stressed, stuttering out through chattering teeth. “When I was out with my brother and Gabriel all those weeks ago, you know I ran into her and… She thinks, she _says_ … Dean I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Dean snarled. “Did you fuck her, Cas?”

“Dean…”

“Jesus Christ. We’re supposed to be getting married, Castiel… Clearly this relationship means more to me than you if you fall into bed with the first skank that comes along…” Dean shook his head, lip curled in disgust. “I knew you were acting weird that night, and the next morning… But this? All this time you’ve been keeping this from me? You soulless son of a bitch…”

“Dean… It’s not…”

“If you say ‘it’s not what you think’ then so help me God…” Dean’s fist was clenched tight at his side. “Get your shit out of my apartment.” Dean pulled his faculty apartment key off his keychain and tossed it at Castiel’s feet in the snow. “I’m going back into that party and am going to pretend this shit didn’t just happen. Don’t be there when I get back or I’ll call security.”

“Dean—”

“No.”

“Dean, please—”

“We’re done.”

“Dean!” 

“We’re done!”

Castiel shook his head. All he could hear as he watched Dean’s back disappear into the hall was his own blood rushing in his ears. One little incident and his entire life had crashed down around him. Shaking, trying hard to hold the tears back, Castiel turned and fled back to Dean’s apartment.

**End Chapter**


	19. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
> 
> Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information

Castiel had Dean’s things packed up in miniature forts all around their apartment back in Boston. He sat on the end of the couch, staring listlessly around the room, glass of whiskey balanced on his knee. The ice clicked across the glass as it melted and Castiel startled back to awareness for a moment. His knee felt itchy and uncomfortable where the condensation had left a ring on his jeans.

He groaned and rubbed his face, leaned forward and placed the glass on the coffee table, nestling it up against two bottles – one empty and one halfway there. 

He hadn’t heard from Dean in three days. He knew he deserved it, but Castiel also knew Dean and thought the younger man would want to sever whatever ties he could as quickly as he could. At least Dean could have contacted him through Sam if Dean didn’t want to talk to Castiel directly. Sam. Sam who wasn’t currently talking to Castiel either. 

Castiel had already taken the necessary money out of his savings account to buy out Dean’s portion of the mortgage. It was sitting like a lead weight in his main account, taunting Castiel with each passing day. Castiel knew Dean would want out because he couldn’t carry the apartment on his own. This place they had been both so excited about when they found it. Castiel felt sick.

His phone chirped and he scrambled to pick it up before checking the caller ID. “Dean?”

“Sorry,” it was Balthazar.

“Shit,” Castiel replied.

“Cassy…”

“I know I screwed up, Balth. I get it. Now tell me what you want and leave me alone. My buzz is wearing off and I’d like to return to oblivion as soon as possible.”

“I’m just calling to make sure you aren’t drinking yourself into a stupor. Clearly, I’ve called too late, haven’t I? Castiel, what the fuck happened?”

Castiel sighed, he knew this conversation was inevitable. It was only a matter of time after Castiel had spilled his guts to Gabriel. Castiel was just surprised it took his brother a whole twenty-four hours before calling him, though. 

“I go to London for two days, then I get back and find out from my husband that my brother is a cheating arsehole and broke up with his fiancé? I mean, what the hell, Cassy?”

Castiel didn’t fault Balthazar for the disbelief in his tone. Had Castiel been on the other side of this conversation he would have been just as, if not more, baffled than his brother.

“Balthazar… I _don’t know_. I tried to tell Dean that, but he wouldn’t listen. I don’t remember that night, at all. I remember running into Meg at the bar, smelling her perfume, and then drinking. That’s it. She corners me at Dean’s damn party and implies that we slept together, but Balthazar… I don’t…”

“Cheat.”

“Never. I’ve never,” Castiel shook his head wildly. “I’m not denying I wasn’t a little slut in college but that didn’t mean I was a philanderer. I just didn’t do relationships and when I did… Never. It didn’t even cross my mind to ever be unfaithful.”

Balthazar sighed, “I know. I know… Do you think maybe she’s lying?”

“What would she gain from that?” Castiel asked, bewildered. “What could she possibly get out of fracturing my relationship with Dean? And _why_ can’t I remember?” Castiel let out a sharp sound of frustration and downed the watery whiskey in the bottom of the glass before pouring himself another one, straight-up this time. He swallowed half that down too just to give himself something to do while Balthazar mused in silence on the other end.

“I don’t know, Cassy… I just don’t know…” Balthazar waited a beat before continuing, “Look Cassy, put the glass down and pack a bag. I’m going to be on my way over there to get you. You’ll stay with us for a few days so Gabe and I can keep an eye on you in case you decide that abusing recreational drugs is a good way to pass your time.”

“Balthazar… I wouldn’t…” Castiel left the sentence hanging.

“Again? I didn’t think you would the first time around but history has a tendency to repeat itself, doesn’t it? Just sit tight, Cassy. We’ll figure this out,” Balthazar was calm and reassuring and Castiel felt a sudden pang of guilt that his baby brother had to take care of him _again_.

“Thank you,” Castiel said quietly.

“Love you, Cassy.”

Castiel’s lips twitched into a slight smile despite it all. “Love you too, Balth.”

xx

“Sam?” Castiel answered hesitantly.

“Hello, Castiel,” Sam replied neutrally. “How have you been?”

“Sam…” Castiel trailed off.

“Look, I’m not going to get in between you and my brother, all right? I really don’t know what went on and Dean only gave me the Cliff’s Notes version, all right? But you’re still my partner and my friend and well, I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said quietly. “So, are you calling to come get Dean’s things?”

Castiel heard the frown in Sam’s voice. “He hasn’t contacted you about that yet?”

Castiel blinked. “No… I haven’t heard from him since that night… Sam, have you…?”

“He hasn’t called me since Christmas,” Sam replied. “That was only two days ago, though. He said something about visiting Andrea, he’s probably just—” Sam cut himself off and Castiel almost heard the click of his teeth over the line.

“I see,” Castiel said tightly. “Yes, well… If you hear from him, let me know I have his money and I can give him a certified cheque for his half of the apartment. I’m at Balthazar’s if you need to contact me. I’ve called in sick until Thursday.”

“Yeah, Cas… all right,” Sam replied. “You ah… take care, all right? Just… watch yourself?”

“Balthazar and Gabriel are doing more than enough of that for me,” Castiel replied wryly. “I feel like I’m five years old again. Gabriel’s giving me the evil-eye as we speak.”

“I’m ah… glad you have them right now, Castiel.”

“Thank you, Sam. I’ll talk to you later,” Castiel clicked the phone off and leaned back on the couch pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m watching you, Cassy,” Gabriel said warningly.

“I’m sorry, are headaches against the rules now?” Castiel quirked a brow at his brother-in-law.

“That Sam?”

“You know very well it was Sam,” Castiel pushed off from the couch and wandered over to the desk, picking up his laptop.

“Any news?”

“No Gabriel, no news,” Castiel shook his head and came back over to the spot he had claimed as his own on the couch.

“You gonna shower at some point Castiel? I love your man musk and all but it’s kinda getting a bit much,” Gabriel teased.

“I want to see if I got any hits on a search I’ve been running,” Castiel replied. “The last piece of information I got from… Well, I just want to cover all my bases.”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “Baseball reference. I am ashamed, Cassy.”

“Shut up,” Castiel replied idly. All that followed for the next several minutes was Castiel’s rapid clicking. 

Gabriel watched him over top of his magazine, appreciating the fact that Castiel was focusing on something other than Dean. That, however, did not mean that Gabriel was overly fond of the look of single-minded determination on his friend’s face.

“Oh my God,” Castiel muttered suddenly.

“Castiel?” Gabriel asked uneasily, startled by the sudden pronouncement.

“I found her.”

“What?” Gabriel came over and wandered around the back of the couch to peer over Castiel’s shoulder. “What is it?”

“Ruby… Ruby Cassidy. I thought she was the one we have in custody but this is another one. Look. She disappeared three years ago. Last known address was an apartment building owned by Morning Star… No record of employment though…” Castiel frowned.

“What does this have to do with Jesse?”

“Jesse said that Ruby was his nanny and that he really liked her but she left, that she _died_. At least that’s what Jesse told Dean. What if she got too close, what if Lilith killed her?”

“Then you could finally nail her for something,” Gabriel blinked. “After all these years.”

“I have to call Sam,” Castiel said, pushing his laptop away and picking up his Blackberry.

xx

“Are you sure, Castiel?” Sam asked eagerly. They were in Castiel’s office, files strewn between them across the broad desk.

“As sure as I can be. Jane Doe 11282008001. Her autopsy photo got a hit in Missing Persons when I was doing my cross-checking.”

“Why wouldn’t it have popped up when they did the search the first time?” Sam frowned.

“She wasn’t declared missing until two months after her body was recovered; by then they had no cause to search the databases.”

“That’s weird…” Sam shifted uneasily.

“I confirmed it with the Boston PD and they’re going to have a forensic anthropologist exhume and look over the remains for extra confirmation. With any luck we’ll be able to find something to connect Lilith to her murder other than circumstantial evidence. They said if this checks out they’ll give us the collar if we give them the nod. I’d like to get Jesse to ID her as his nanny, but without…”

“Dean. Yeah, he’s still working at the Academy. Apparently that Alec guy offered a contract extension,” Sam shifted again, the manufactured leather of the seat squeaking beneath his weight.

“How’s your back?” Castiel asked, head shooting up.

“I’m holding up,” Sam fought back the grimace. “Ellen got pissed when I said I was coming in but then I told her I was here for you, not for work-work… She’s still pissed.”

“I appreciate you being here,” Castiel said earnestly.

Sam smiled gently. “Like I said Castiel, despite how things are with you and my brother… You’re my partner. We work well together, not about to change that now. I’ll ask Dean about this, if I can get a hold of him.”

Castiel’s head shot up at that. “If you can get a hold of him?”

“Yeah, haven’t talked to him for a few days. He called me Christmas Day, that I told you. Said he was going to be staying at the Academy. Haven’t spoken to him since. I figured he’d grab his stuff and spend his vacation in the cabin or something,” Sam shrugged.

“Get his stuff?” Castiel furrowed his brow again.

Sam blinked. “Yeah, you said…”

“I know, I know. Yes, I did, but he still hasn’t contacted me about it.”

“He hasn’t?” Sam asked, startled.

Castiel shook his head.

“Okay, little bizarre… but you know how he gets, Castiel. He’s probably driving the Impala across the country right now, taking his irritation out on the blacktop,” Sam shrugged.

“Irritation… I’m sure that’s putting it mildly, but you are correct, of course. Anyway, when you do speak to him let him know I’ll be staying at my brother’s for at least another week, so if he’s anxious about it, he won’t have to run into me. Gabriel’s refusing to let me go home.”

“That’s because Gabriel is a good brother,” Sam said.

“No, that’s because Gabriel is a whimpering limpet and Balthazar is out of town until next Wednesday,” Castiel replied.

Sam chuckled, “However you wanna see it, Cas.”

The nickname gave Castiel a sad little jolt and he hoped his wince was not visible. For some reason, growing up and even up until he met the Winchesters, people tended to use his proper given name. He wasn’t opposed to nicknames… Well he was opposed a little to ‘Cassy’ but had people called him ‘Cas’ growing up, he wouldn’t have minded. 

Dean, once they began seeing more of each other, slipped out the nickname one day without a thought. At Castiel’s surprised face Dean had apologized profusely. Castiel was, of course, quick to assure the younger man that he had only been startled and he didn’t mind. From then it just kind of stuck and trickled its way through one Winchester at a time until Castiel associated that nickname strictly to his adopted – _formally_ he was forced to remind himself – family. Now hearing it just kind of hurt.

Sam caught sight of the clock on the top of the shelf behind Castiel’s desk and his eyes widened almost comically. “Shit! Jess doesn’t know I went out. I gotta get back.” 

Sam pushed away from Castiel’s desk and stood as swiftly as a man with a still-healing stab wound could stand, gathering up the photos and files on the way.

“I’ll look into these, see if I can’t pick anything up that may help us, and I’ll give Dean a call and have him ask Jesse about Ruby Cassidy when everyone gets back from the break. 

“Can’t drink on the medication but if you and your annoying brother-in-law want to grab a burger or something later, I’m sure Jess would be happy to get out of cooking for the night… She’s been handling most of it with my lack of mobility and all,” Sam flashed an amused twist of his lips.

Castiel chuckled before remarking wryly, “Yes, I’m sure that pains you a great deal.”

“You’ve no idea,” Sam said with mock seriousness, his eyes sparkling.

“I’m sure Gabriel is up for leaving the house. He never has the same trouble with cooking because Balthazar keeps a personal regular, vegan, _and_ pastry chef on retainer but he does enjoy a change of scenery,” Castiel nodded.

“All right, I’ll give you a call later then with what I’ve found out. See you, Cas.”

“Stay safe, Sam.”

Sam shuffled out of the office and closed the glass door gently behind him as he went. 

Castiel let out a heavy sigh, the temporary reprieve of Sam’s comforting presence (and _that_ alone was a whole mess of one more thing for Castiel to feel guilty about. What right did he have to comfort?) no longer with him. He leaned his elbows on his desk and cradled his face in his hands, before shaking himself and picking up the phone on his desk.

“Andy… Yes. See if you could get me Dr. Reichs, please.”

xx

Castiel was still at his office when six o’clock rolled around, which wasn’t terribly unusual except for the fact that he had come into the office at six o’clock that morning. For someone who usually preferred sleeping in until noon if he could swing it, that was quite the feat. 

Castiel, however, hadn’t been getting much sleep lately for obvious reasons. If only he knew how Dean was holding up. Castiel knew better than to ask Sam or Jess and he wasn’t about to call Mary or John but maybe… He just wanted to make sure Dean was well. Plain and simple.

Castiel dug his Blackberry out of his drawer and scrolled through the address book. He was sure Dean had programed it in his phone at some point back when she and Dean were working together on the Halloween Carnival. Not even three months and it felt like ages ago. If he didn’t have the number then he could always – _Yes!_

“Hello?” the voice on the other end was rather suspicious. Castiel felt that didn’t bode well if she was already sounding like that and didn’t even know who it was yet.

“Andrea? Hello, it’s Castiel L’Ange calling and before you—”

“What the heck are you doing calling me?” Andrea whispered, low and angry; he thought he faintly heard the soft click of a door closing and figured she was looking for privacy. Castiel’s felt a sick churn low in his stomach.

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t be. I just… I’m not looking for sympathy votes or anything I’m not even calling for—”

“Well good! ‘Cause you sure as sauce aren’t about to get any of that from me.”

“Please, Andrea. I just… is Dean still there with you? Is he doing all right? He hasn’t contacted me about his things yet and I just want to make sure… I don’t even know…”

When she spoke again Castiel could hear the confusion in her voice, “Wait, you hold on a sec… Still with me? Castiel, why would you say that? He came by late Boxing Day morning and stayed until late afternoon. I haven’t heard from him since… Though when he was here I certainly heard a few choice things come out of his mouth about you…”

“Nothing, I just thought… Nothing.”

“If you thought what I think you thought, you are… You’re… A horrible person! Neither Dean or me would ever do what you seem to be implying, Castiel.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I’m very sorry. Sam just let it slip that Dean had been with you… But wait, you haven’t heard from Dean in four days?”

“No, I haven’t… I mean it’s a bit weird, it being Winter Break and everything but… I thought he just had things to sort out…” Along with confusion, worry was creeping into Andrea’s voice. A worry that was beginning to be matched - if not doubled - by Castiel’s own. 

Next to Sam, Andrea was the person Dean called or saw the most. With them both not teaching and with Dean having been away for a good portion of the last term, Castiel had assumed, regardless of a relationship between them or lack thereof, that Dean would be spending as much time as he could with his friend. 

It had always been a bitter point of jealousy in Dean’s and Castiel’s relationship, actually. Castiel was forever jealous. It was funny though, he had never been the jealous type _before_ Dean came along, but that didn’t matter now. Castiel had lost whatever rights he’d had in the matter.

“Castiel…?”

Her voice invaded Castiel’s thoughts. Just as Castiel was opening his mouth to formulate some way to brush her concerns off as needless, the line cut out temporarily, signifying a waiting call.

“Andrea, I’m certain he’s fine. I have to go though, I’ve another call. You have a good night and please don’t worry. I apologize again for my… assumption earlier.”

“All right then.” After a perfunctory ‘good night’ Andrea hung up the phone. 

“Hello?”

“Cas… hey…” Sam replied, sounding uncertain.

“Sam! Did you get in contact with Dean?” A silent litany of ‘please say yes, please say yes’ sprung unbidden in the back of Castiel’s mind, but a part of him already knew the answer.

“No, Cas. I didn’t,” Sam answered grimly. “I’m sure he’s just…”

“Sam, we both know him well enough to know however you are going to finish that sentence is not true,” Castiel cut in. “I know I screwed up in a horrendously awful way but I still very much love your brother and this behaviour is just too… unusual for us to continue lying to ourselves.”

“Oh God, you don’t think he started drinking again, do you? What if he wrapped the Impala around a tree again and is dying in a ditch somewhere? Or what if… what if he’s languishing in some shitty hospital with amnesia or—”

“Sam! Stop it.”

Castiel heard Sam’s teeth click shut at the force of the command all the way on the other side of the phone.

“When was the last time you spoke to Dean?”

“I told you Cas, Sunday.”

“Sunday,” Castiel repeated.

“Jesus, you don’t belie—”

“Sam! My process. You know this.”

“Right, you turn into a parrot when you’re thinking about shit. Okay. Sunday last.”

“He told you he was seeing…?”

“Andrea.”

“Andrea. Now, I just got off the phone with Andrea—”

“Why the hell would you be calling her, Castiel?” Sam’s tone was accusatory, rearing up to defend his brother at the first hints of Castiel displaying Psycho-Ex Syndrome – It’s a real thing, Gabriel told Castiel all about it… Gabriel was a deliberately compulsive liar, though.

Castiel sighed, “I was just worried about him, Sam. I just wanted to see how he was doing. I wasn’t about to break the trust you have with him and ask you. I know you wouldn’t have told me anyway.”

“Yeah, like calling his friends is so much better…”

“Sam.”

“Right. Right. Friend-Sam now. Brother-Sam later. What did Andrea have to say?”

“Not much, other than giving me a severe reprimand,” Castiel replied flatly.

“Points for Andrea,” Sam countered.

“I deserved that,” Castiel conceded. “Regardless, she told me that Dean only stayed until the afternoon and that she hadn’t heard from him since.”

“Shit.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“Jesus… All right. Look, we can’t panic yet… How about this: at dinner, we’ll ask Gabriel what he thinks of the situation. He can give us his professional opinion on the matter, then we’ll get our game plan going from there. Maybe this is just a common knee-jerk response for someone in Dean’s situation or something…”

“I don’t think falling off the grid is a common response,” Castiel retorted.

“Castiel, just shut up about that… All right? I’m gonna call my mom and maybe Bobby too. See if they know anything. I’ll meet you at our usual place in a half hour.”

“Yes, see you then, Sam,” Castiel nodded to the phone. 

Castiel rubbed the bridge of his nose and pushed away from the desk, gathering his satchel and papers before hitting the light and locking the office behind him. 

A few floors up on the elevator and Castiel was standing outside his brother-in-law’s closed office door, blinds drawn but the light visible through the aluminum. Castiel knocked.

“Entrez-vous mon frère!”

“Your French pronunciation is terrible,” Castiel said by way of greeting once he pushed open the office door.

“I just add my own flavour,” Gabriel flashed a grin.

“One doesn’t tend to do that with languages, Gabriel… It misses the point of speaking another language. You know, the intention is to be _understood_ by others.”

“La-dee-da, Mister I-Speak-Five-Languages-Flawlessly-One-of-Which-No-One-Even-Uses-Anymore,” Gabriel huffed.

“Not flawlessly, Gabriel… Just with a high proficiency,” Castiel retorted. “Now get your things. We’re going to dinner with Sam and Jessica.”

Gabriel slipped into his, what Dean had dubbed, ‘Shrink-Face’ and quirked an eyebrow. “Do you think that is wise, Castiel?”

“Don’t analyse me, Gabriel. It was Sam’s idea,” Castiel said. “We aren’t doing this sharing our feelings nonsense, not right now. You’re coming as my brother-in-law, not my colleague.”

“And as your brother-in-law, I’m concerned about your emotional response to this situation,” Gabriel’s eyes flashed for a moment. Castiel saw the glimpse of the real Gabriel underneath the _joie du vivre_ , flamboyant façade. He saw the serious, analytical side of Gabriel and the hidden strength usually so obscured by his compact exterior.

“Gabriel…”

“Castiel, I’ve known you since you were seventeen years old, you should have stopped bullshitting me years ago. I was your first friend and your first confidant and now I have the privilege of being your brother as well, don’t belittle my concern for you and don’t wave it off like you do all too often. I don’t know the whole story here, but I do know you’re hurting. I honestly don’t know if seeing Sam and Jessica is really going to help you right now… Sam is Dean’s—”

“Dean’s missing,” Castiel broke in.

Gabriel was taken aback at the sudden proclamation and stared up at the taller man. “What?”

“Well… perhaps I’m jumping to conclusions…”

“Castiel, you don’t honestly expect Dean to answer your calls or to contact—” Gabriel had a look of blatant concern on his face.

“Gabriel, I haven’t gone mad! Sam agrees with me here, Dean hasn’t contacted him since Christmas and Sam was unable to get a hold of Dean when he called him this afternoon… We’re understandably concerned and we were going to use this dinner to see what you thought of the matter. Now please, I’ll give you the details on the way over. Let’s just go meet Sam.”

“Okay, okay. Sure thing, Cassy,” Gabriel nodded. It didn’t take Gabriel long to sweep his folders and notebooks into a pile and hit the lights on the way out. He could tell Castiel was anxious, and seeing that in the normally endlessly calm and collected man was disconcerting to say the least.

“Thank you,” Castiel replied.

xx

Gabriel slurped the last dredges of his strawberry milkshake and chased it with a large piece of fudge brownie, licking the drizzled chocolate sauce off his fork as he surveyed the worried faces of Sam, Jess and Castiel.

“Well?” Castiel prodded.

Gabriel sighed, “Look, in light of the current situation and given Dean’s history with relationships… or lack thereof I suppose, and from what I know of Dean as both psychiatrist and friend, I don’t think you should worry yet. Give it until New Years. In this current situation, Dean’s fight or flight instinct is elevated. He has no one to direct his anger to aside from the one person he has no interest in interacting with…”

Castiel winced.

“Therefore, flight is the primary response,” Gabriel continued. “He’ll cool down soon. If you don’t hear from him by New Year’s then we’ll explore this again. For now, call around to his friends and family and see who saw or heard from him last. Regardless of what he needs right now, it wouldn’t hurt to get an idea of where he’s going to be or where he is. Like you guys said though, he’s probably just cruising around in the Impala. Driving can be very meditative and therapeutic to some…” Gabriel shrugged and shoved a large bite of pie into his mouth.

“All right…” Sam nodded. “If you say so… It’s just…”

“Don’t overanalyse, Samuel,” Gabriel chastised.

“Fine,” Sam huffed.

“It’s okay, Baby. You’re brother’s not gonna let New Year’s go by without calling you… I mean seriously, when was the last time you guys even spent New Year’s apart?” Jess squeezed Sam’s hand.

“2009, first year he was with Cas,” Sam answered immediately. The younger man’s eyes widened and he turned an apologetic look over to the blue-eyed man across the table. Castiel’s face had gone stony as he glared at a crack in the table top.

“Sor—”

“No Sam. Don’t apologize,” Castiel shook his head. 

xx

It quickly got to the point where Castiel couldn’t take the waiting any longer. He knew he promised Gabriel he’d wait it out and he promised Sam he wouldn’t interfere, but enough was enough. Castiel couldn’t hold back the sick churning in his gut every time he thought about Dean and his radio silence. It had been hovering there ever since Christmas and Castiel had been trying desperately to deny it with little success. If the last few months had taught him anything, it was that he needed to follow his instincts. They’d never steered Castiel wrong before and he had been pushing them away for far too long.

His decision was made before he really knew what was going on. Castiel climbed out of bed and hopped into the closest items of clothing he could find: worn, comfortable jeans and a warm hoodie. He pulled the hoodie over his t-shirt, not bothering to change that and grabbed his keys, gun, badge, and wallet. Creeping carefully down Balthazar’s opulent and plush hallway, he paused at the top of the curved, grand staircase, waiting a beat before padding down the carpeting and slipping into his boots at the front door. Castiel didn’t concern himself with a jacket, barely acknowledging the cold of the night and hurrying to his SUV.

Castiel made the trip to the Academy in record time. He broke more speed limits than he cared to think about, his thoughts focused on just being sure that Dean was all right. Castiel knew he had no right to be here, had no right to be doing this. He just couldn’t shake the unease. 

Sam, Jess and he had called around to as many people as they could think of. The first call was obviously to John and Mary, but the youngest Winchester informed Castiel that his parents hadn’t heard from Dean either. That was extremely troubling in and of itself. Call after call, all turning up nothing. That, of course, left one place to look.

The Academy was eerily quiet, most of the live-in faculty and students off with their friends and families for the holidays. Castiel didn’t see the Impala, but he had pulled up to the front drive and not the rear. There were one or two lit windows here and there, but nothing spectacular. 

Castiel didn’t sit and wait to second guess his decision. He was armed, out of the vehicle and across the gravel driveway before he could form a coherent thought. 

Dean could be pissed off at Castiel all he wanted, but at least then Castiel would know that Dean was all right. Then Castiel would tell Sam and Sam would give his brother the tongue lashing that he deserved for evading all of them lately. There was still a traitorous little part of Castiel that whispered to him that finding Dean here was kind of a long shot but Castiel refused to listen. 

Castiel made quick work of the lock on the front door, not even bothering with the pretense of being an invited guest. It was the middle of the night anyway; no one was around and Castiel was beyond the point of caring. He just had to know.

Climbing the stairs two at a time to Dean’s apartment, Castiel thought he saw a glimpse of the Impala parked in the back lot through the window. A small amount of tension eased out of Castiel at that, but he wouldn’t trust anything until he was staring into green eyes and hearing the familiar voice tear him a new one for being there.

Castiel didn’t bother waiting after he knocked. “Dean? Can you open the door please? I just need to see if you’re all right.” Castiel knocked again. He waited, shifting anxiously.

“Dean, I’m so sorry for being here, but I just need to see that you’re fine and then I’ll go, I promise… Sam’s worried…” He waited a beat again, still no response. Castiel frowned, took a cursory glance around the hallway, before bending to pick the lock. The door gave easily under Castiel’s first touch on the doorknob. The blue-eyed agent’s heart fell to his stomach. 

The minute he crossed the threshold he knew something was wrong.

**End Chapter**


	20. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same story, I just changed the summary to better reflect the content. It’s a little late to do so, I know, but the original summary just wasn’t cutting it.
> 
> Special Thanks to **Dapperscript** for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
> 
> Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information

  


Ellen quirked a brow, taking in the room. “I don’t quite get what you’re seeing here, Castiel, I’m sorry. This just looks like the apartment of any thirty-something guy living on his own if you ask me.”

After stepping into the apartment, Castiel immediately called Sam who called Ellen. She usually didn’t get directly involved in their cases but Sam figured that they would need some clout behind them to get this moving as quickly as possible. Castiel really couldn’t blame her observation, and wouldn’t have, had he not known Dean so well.

Castiel’s first clue had been the water bottle sitting innocuously on the coffee table. When Castiel got further in the room he saw papers scattered along the dining table, dumped free from Dean’s satchel. There were also a few discarded food wrappers strewn across the floor by the couch. 

Castiel moved slowly around the room and when he saw the coffee maker sitting pulled clear of the wall with dredges of a pot still listless in the bottom, it was pretty easy to figure out. Just to be extra cautious however, Castiel moved into the bedroom and saw the bed turned down as if someone had either left it in a hurry or was just preparing to crawl in.

“Ellen… There’s one thing we left out about Dean,” Sam began hesitantly.

“Oh?” Ellen asked, turning away from her survey of the apartment to face the two agents.

“Yeah, we don’t really… talk about it and he’s never officially been diagnosed, but ever since Dean was four he’s had…” Sam trailed off.

“Minor obsessive compulsive tendencies,” Castiel supplied. “Nothing incredibly debilitating, just a strong desire for things to be neat and tidy… Things to be in their places and ordered. The more stressed he gets, the more aggressive he becomes with it and I imagine he’s rather more stressed lately than usual… Considering…” Castiel didn’t finish, just stared resolutely at a spot on the floor. 

“Yeah, he has been… So to walk in and see this,” Sam’s gesture was all encompassing. “Basically to Cas and I, knowing Dean and how he is, this place is trashed. Not only were they looking for something but they left in a hurry with Dean in tow,” Sam said firmly.

“But thankfully, they also left something behind,” Castiel nodded to the bottle on the coffee table.

“What, your boy doesn’t drink water?” Ellen was still sceptical.

“Not out of a bottle, he wouldn’t,” Castiel shook his head. He led Ellen and Sam into the kitchenette and opened the small refrigerator after carefully slipping a black latex glove around the handle, so as not to contaminate it with his own fingerprints, and gestured to the complete lack of disposable water bottles.

Castiel indicated the self-filtering pitcher for water. “He teaches sustainability in his classroom, he’s not about to use water bottles at home. He always wanted me to… Just trust me Ellen, please,” Castiel tried to keep the desperation out of his tone, but understood he was failing.

“You think they’d really be stupid enough to leave that behind?” Sam raised a brow.

“You’d think not, but maybe whoever was here was merely contracted, not one of Crowley’s men,” Castiel shrugged.

Ellen sighed, “Fine, I’ll call Forensics. But if you two are wrong about this…” 

Sam and Castiel nodded, the threat was clear: they’d have to start circulating resumes. 

xx

Dean flashed bloodied teeth and spit a glob of red to the dirty concrete floor. He glared up at the man standing before him, vision obscured by the rivulet of dark liquid. “Have you made your point yet?”

“No, and don’t tempt me to continue, Dean… I unfortunately need to keep you alive. As much as I would love to decorate the walls with your entrails, you serve a purpose.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“No, actually, my parents were pleasantly married for several years. They grew old together and died in one another’s arms, forever proud of their very legitimate son,” Crowley smiled unpleasantly.

“Fuck you,” Dean wheezed.

Crowley moved in and punched Dean hard in in the stomach. The green eyed man bit back the pained shout and coughed, the force of it aggravating bruised ribs.

“Maybe later,” Crowley said. “Right now, I have to get ready for a meeting. Big things.”

Crowley took the proffered moist towel from a man standing complacent and quiet near the table of Crowley’s instruments. The Scotsman daintily wiped his face and arms before he rolled down his shirt sleeves and fastened the pearl buttons. He _tsked_ softly; the gentle sound so at odds with everything else echoed strangely around the room.

“Winchester, you’ve gotten blood on my shirt and now I have to change. I’m very upset about this,” Crowley said over his shoulder.

“I’ve very upset about your face,” Dean gritted out.

Crowley sighed, “Oh very droll. Ta for now, but I’ll be back.” Crowley began humming softly to himself, the sound of his expensive shoes echoing hollowly through the large space. 

Dean listened until the steps faded and for the sound of a heavy metal door swinging shut, before he slumped against his duct tape bonds and let out a shaky breath, only to shoot his head back up when lighter steps came into the room moments later.

“Hey there.”

“Oh, if it isn’t Meg… Or do you prefer the Whore of Babylon?”

“Ha, ha, ha. You’re cute. I like you, Dean-o… It’s a real shame too…” Meg pouted.

“What do you want? More acerbic repartee or is this not a social call?” Dean tried to keep his strained voice casual.

“I just came to see what you thought of my little performance. Real Oscar winning stuff… If you ask me.” She sashayed towards him and hopped nimbly up on his lap, dropping her weight heavily on the wound in his thigh. 

Dean grunted despite himself and glared at her face inches in front of his own. She shifted around until she straddled his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“No one’s asking you, bitch,” Dean managed.

“Well regardless, I’m telling. One of my classier acts, if I’m being honest. Didn’t even have to take my clothes off this time. I find it strange that you’re so quick to doubt your sweetie’s honour, Dean. Trouble in paradise?”

Dean looked away and glared at the floor.

“Aww… don’t be like that… Truth is, Dean, I basically had to Ruffie the poor bastard to even get close to him… Special blend, though, cooked up by Crowley himself,” Meg winked. She gave Dean an exaggerated pout, “Then all I got was a lousy kiss with him whining about you the entire time.” Her voice turned mocking, “No… I can’t… I have _someone_.” Meg glowered, “Pulled out my best material, too. It’s a real shame… I would have loved to get on that again… Our little angel is a damn good fuck. But of course, you knew that already.”

Dean snapped his head up and around glowering at the woman. “Shut your mouth. Don’t you fucking talk about Cas that way.”

Meg laughed low and breathy as she leaned in, placing her lips right against Dean’s ear. “Oh Dean, the dirty little things he and I did when we were together… All the things he said. Was the best mark I ever had the… _supreme pleasure_ of being with. He liked it rough, you know, shoved me against the wall so hard it hurt, but I liked it… And what he could—”

Dean growled and shoved his head towards her, knocking her hard with his forehead. 

Meg shouted out, sharp and surprised, tumbled off at the sudden movement and pressed the heel of her hand to her head. 

Dean hadn’t been at the right angle to hit her as hard as he could have, but he was still satisfied with the flash in her eyes. 

Meg glared up at him from the floor before pushing herself sinuously to her feet and curling her lips in a smile again. She sauntered towards him, bracing herself on the arms of his chair where he was bound.  
Bravely, Meg leaned into his ear once again. “Just remember Dean-o… I had him first.” She danced away from him before he could lash out again, curled her fingers in a wave, then she turned on her heel and left the room.

xx

_Castiel looked up from his back, feeling strange to be on this end. He reached up, in awe slightly as he traced one delicate finger across a strong eyebrow. The gesture earned him a gentle smile and a soft kiss on the palm of his hand. Castiel shivered._

_“Hey, hey, we don’t have to do this, Castiel,” Dean whispered in his ear. “I can wait, Babe. I promise.”_

_“No I…” Castiel hated the hesitation in his voice. Then he said firmly, “I want to. You’re different.”_

_Dean chuckled, “I should hope so… I’ll go slow, all right? How long has it been?”_

_Castiel blushed, mortified, and began picking at the stray beads of cotton on his thread-bare sheet. “I… since… Fuck. I feel like a damned teenager. A while. It’s been a while.”_

_“All right,” Dean’s voice was gentle and soothing, free from the usual teasing that Castiel normally relished in the love-making._

_Castiel was a firm believer that if sex wasn’t fun, then there was no point in it. He didn’t need tears and soft breathy sighs and proclamations of love. Not that they had said that yet… Castiel wasn’t even sure if he knew the meaning of love any longer. It’s had been so long since he felt it._

_Dean started off far slower than Castiel was used to from the younger man. Dean peppered gentle kisses on Castiel’s lips, nose, forehead, and neck. He trailed soft lips down Castiel chest, pampering each nipple with individual attention until they tingled with sensitivity that sent little shocks on a live-wire straight to Castiel’s groin._

_Dean then trailed lower, tonguing the light swell of Castiel’s faintly defined abdominal muscles. Castiel was gasping now, fingers straining for purchase on Dean’s smooth skin, nails maybe digging in a fraction too deep as Dean finally dropped and took Castiel’s leaking erection into his far too talented mouth. Castiel, despite his usual control, let slip a sharp cry at the warm, wet heat and felt Dean’s lips curl in a self-satisfied smile against the soft skin of Castiel’s cock._

_Castiel closed his eyes, gently kneading through Dean’s hair but not pushing or pulling, just riding out the lips and tongue and gentle hums. He was so involved for a moment that he forgot what he had just agreed to. It wasn’t until Castiel felt the first brush of a carefully lubricated finger that his eyes flew open and he scuttled back before he realized where he was again._

_Dean shot up and pulled away immediately, hands held up to signify he meant Castiel no harm and would give him a moment before approaching again._

_“Castiel…” Dean said gently, sadly but on Castiel’s behalf rather than Dean’s own._

_“Fuck!” Castiel spat out harshly, frustrated and embarrassed at himself._

_“Castiel, I’m so—”_

_“No!” Castiel shook his head quickly. “Don’t. Please Dean, don’t apologize. I don’t want that from you. This has nothing to do with you and I’m the one who’s—”_

_Dean shot forward quickly at that one, but Castiel didn’t startle as he was sure Dean half expected to if the last burst of caution was any indication. Dean ventured forward again, more slowly, and slipped a hand softly over Castiel’s mouth, stemming any apology that was about to follow._

_“If you fucking apologize to me about this, I’m not going to forgive you,” Dean said firmly, eyes flashing in anger directed at a source unknown to him._

_Castiel chuckled then, strained and perhaps a little manic. “We do that a lot… Fuck me… It’s only been two months and we already have a thing.”_

_Dean blinked. “Huh?”_

_“We’re forever trying to apologize to one another about things that are beyond our control. Have you noticed?”_

_“I… yeah… guess so,” Dean mused. “Huh.”_

_“Dean… could we maybe…? I think I want to sleep now,” Castiel said, he bit back the ‘sorry’ before it could slip out._

_Dean smiled, easy and gentle. “I find I’m suddenly very tired.”_

_Castiel nodded, not trusting himself to say much right now. Not trusting himself to do much of anything and that was a thought so foreign to him that he had to mentally rewind and re-evaluate._

_They settled down easily in Castiel’s bed, curling on their sides, Dean curled behind him. It was strange… but not unpleasant and Castiel subconsciously found himself nestled back further against Dean’s chest to feel more of his body and skin pressed tight against Castiel’s own. This was new for him… or old, perhaps. A Castiel he had not been in a long time. A Castiel he had buried in the sands and collateral of Afghanistan and later Iraq. Buried with his wife and son. Buried with his banishment from his father’s home and love. Buried from himself. Castiel shuddered._

_“Hey… hey,” Dean whispered, soft and gentle behind him, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck._

_Castiel hated himself a little right now. Hated his vulnerability and weakness. Hated his complete and utter lack of control, and maybe hated Dean a little bit for doing this all to him in so short a time. One disarming smile and a flash of green eyes and a part of Castiel tore open that he had forgotten he owned. He wasn’t used to being this way. He wasn’t used to being the one not in control. He wasn’t used to things not happening on his own terms. He wasn’t used to letting someone in._

_“Dude… what’s your one biggest piss-off about relationships? Not ones you’ve been in, necessarily, but something you just don’t get,” Dean said quite suddenly._

_Castiel blinked; he didn’t have to think when he answered, “Infidelity.”_

_“Wow,” Dean remarked. “Yeah… that’s a biggy. Personal experience?”_

_Castiel shook his head against the pillow. “No, not to **me** personally, but it is something I don’t understand… I mean, if you no longer have an interest in a person, why bother to keep going? I never understood the point or the reasoning behind it. That damn line: ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’ So you betray someone instead? It’s idiotic. If the attraction is gone or not as strong as it is with someone else, cut the ties and move on as amicably as possible. It’s better in the long run.”_

_Castiel felt Dean’s smile curl against his neck. “Well, can’t argue that logic. I’m happy to inform you, I never cheated.”_

_“You could just be saying that,” Castiel said cynically._

_“I’m not,” Dean assured._

_Castiel shifted around, so he could look at Dean in the eyes. “Promise me something, then…”_

_“Okay…” Dean agreed hesitantly._

_“If this stops working for you, I need you to tell me. I don’t want either of us to drag out something that isn’t working, all right? I’d do it for you.”_

_Dean swallowed. “Ah yeah… sure… But Castiel, I—”_

_Castiel smiled gently. “Dean, rest assured. It’s working very well. Don’t you agree?”_

_“Yeah… I actually think it’s kinda awesome,” Dean smiled._

_“Good,” Castiel nodded firmly. He shifted around again and settled his back against Dean’s chest once more, finding the position exceedingly comfortable. He wasn’t used to being the smaller party in a relationship. It was… protective. Safe in a way Castiel had not allowed himself to feel in a long, long time. At that thought, Castiel felt a twist and squeeze in his stomach and chest; a leap as his pulse picked up. Admittedly, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Perhaps sensing the shift, Dean’s arms tightened but he wisely decided not to comment._

_A long silence followed, Castiel felt his eyes begin to droop, his breath even out. In that strange muzzy state between sleeping and wakefulness, he felt compelled._

_“Just over ten years,” the blue-eyed agent remarked sleepily._

_“Huh?” Dean jolted at Castiel’s voice, probably further under than Castiel had been._

_“Since I let a man top… Just over ten years,” Castiel answered._

_Dean nodded, dropping a kiss to Castiel’s neck again. “Okay. Sleep, Cas.”_

_That was the first time Dean had ever used the nickname, though at that point Castiel had been too far under to realize it._

xx

Castiel jolted awake in his empty bed, gasping into the night and cursing the tender memory turned dream that was already starting to fade in the pale dawn. Why did he have to dream about that now? Why that tender, sweet moment? The moment when Castiel began to fall a little in love with Dean. Dean, who had gone missing and was having God knew what done to him. Dean, who Castiel had lost the minute he let Meg get too close to him. Castiel, who had vowed he would never, ever be unfaithful. 

With the confession of that night, with the slow realization of growing feelings, with Dean’s gentle acceptance, it’s like it all clicked into place. Dean wasn’t his asshole ex. Dean was Dean. Dean was new and real and soft and vulnerable and hard as marble and just as easily molded by a skilled artist’s hand. 

Dean was a walking conundrum with his easy smile, easy laughs, and easy tears, while at the same time having an unwavering strength that Castiel had never encountered before. He was something _more_. He was Dean, bright and powerful and the most human creature Castiel had ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

Castiel took Dean in, just a few hours after that. For the first time in over ten years, Castiel had allowed himself to open up, to surrender, and it had been an almost profound experience. That was when Castiel fell from just a little in love to being in way over his head in far too quick a time, and he’d been stuck there since. Hopelessly, madly in love with Dean Winchester, the most infuriating person he had ever met.

Now, Castiel had screwed up. He had betrayed Dean in a way he never thought he ever could have. He had lost Dean in more ways than the obvious. Castiel felt sick.

He rolled into a sitting position, holding his head in his hands, then decided going back to sleep probably wasn’t going to happen. It was early yet, but Castiel could care less. He stumbled to the shower and turned the spray on as hot as he could tolerate. Felt it prick and redden his skin, wished that it was able to magically wash the stress, guilt, and personal torment away as easily as it was able to sluice off the dirt and grit of sleep. 

He finished quicker than he normally would have, not taking the same pleasure in the stream as he would have once. He dried and dressed, quick and clinical, and left without a backward glance at the empty apartment. 

The clock on his SUV’s dash proclaimed it was ten minutes after six in the morning. A week ago, this hour for Castiel would have been unthinkable, but a week ago, he had been happy. A week ago, he was secure in the knowledge that Dean was just a quick hour away, content and safe. A week ago, Castiel still gained pleasure from sleep and the occasional dream of Dean in the dark of night. That was then, before sleepless nights, worry, and anxiety. Before he was desperate to dig up whatever answers he could and _find Dean_. Dean who had been officially missing now for almost twenty-four hours but God knew how much longer before that. 

Castiel felt his hands begin to quiver and his eyes burn, but he gritted his teeth against both reactions. He focused instead on getting to his office and getting to work. So focused was he that his phone chirping at his side made him grateful for the early hour, as he swerved his SUV across the dividing line of the traffic lanes.

Castiel let out a shaky breath and eased the car onto the shoulder of the road. After fumbling for his phone, he read the text.

**DNA - Alec Kruschev.**

Castiel blinked down at the name robotically before an angry coil grew and grew until his only choice was to scream into the silence of the car.

“Fuck!” Castiel pounded the steering wheel with an open hand. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!”

Castiel couldn’t hold it anymore, the sleepless nights, the painful reminder of Dean in the dream and subsequently the shell the younger man had torn down. The stress, the anger, the overwhelming fear… It all shattered suddenly, it was one great heave and Castiel broke free with a choking sob. 

His shoulders shook as he slumped over the steering wheel, his forehead pressed painfully against hard curves as he cried. His hands tight and knuckles white, air quickly leaving his lungs as he drenched his own skin in tears. He just stayed like that for several moments until his throat ached and his skin was itchy with drying salt water, eyes red and puffy. 

He wasn’t startled this time when his phone rang. He thought briefly about letting it go to voicemail but answered and rested his head back against the seat, saying nothing.

“Cas… Cas are you there? We got DNA, Cas, did you see?” Sam’s voice was eager.

Castiel replied numbly, “It doesn’t matter, Sam. Alec Kruschev is Dean’s department head at the Academy.”

Sam voice fell, “What?”

“You heard me, Sam, I met him at the Christmas party. We’ll go talk to him anyway. He was the last to see Dean, but I’m not sure if he’ll have any information for us. I’m on my way to the office now. I’ll get his permanent address once I’m there.”

“You’re on your way now? Jesus, Cas, its six-thirty in the morning,” Sam murmured. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

Castiel snorted bitterly, “Sleep.” He hung up without a goodbye. He’d feel guilty for it later, but now he was just… blank.

xx

Sam met him at about seven o’clock, coffees in hand. He looked vaguely guilty himself and Castiel assumed he had fought with Jessica about coming in. Castiel found out his guess had been right on the money when Sam had told him as much after the tall man entered Castiel’s office.

Alec’s home address had been easy enough to locate and he lived only about two hours east of Boston. The trip wouldn’t be bad going against traffic and with Castiel at the wheel. He tried to stay positive, but figured Alec had only been there to check on his friend. Dean and he had seemed fairly close at the party and it would be only natural for Alec to show concern, depending on how much he knew about Dean’s situation. 

Needless to say, the ride out of the city had been slightly awkward; neither agent felt like talking about much of anything and all of Sam’s early morning enthusiasm has been let out of him like air from a balloon. Now the young man just looked strained and pale. Shadows under Sam’s eyes, evidence of the healing his body was still undertaking, lips tight in pain or apprehension, Castiel wasn’t sure.

“Jessica will forgive you, Sam. She’s just worried,” Castiel tried quietly. “I’m sorry about how I was this morning. You caught me at a… vulnerable moment.”

“Yeah, no worries, Man. I know this is hard on you too, especially after you and Dean just fought. Jess will be fine, yeah… I was just… so excited, you know? Finally a good solid lead and then…” Sam blew out his fingers in the widely used gesture for explosion, before letting his hand drop heavily to his lap.

Castiel nodded. “We’ll be there soon.”

The house Alec Kruschev lived in seemed larger than someone with a teacher’s salary could afford. It surprised the older man a little, knowing Alec wasn’t married and not even expecting a house at all. It was in a quiet neighbourhood, on a quiet street, with perfect lawns and fifty-thousand dollar vehicles sitting in driveways. 

Castiel blinked; he knew Alec didn’t make that much. Dean’s salary for the Academy had only been fractionally larger than his salary from the public school.

“Ah… Dean’s Department Head you said?” Sam asked carefully.

“Perhaps they do well,” Castiel shrugged.

“Wife maybe?”

“Not married… At least he was there with Me… um… a woman he wasn’t married to. His date had implied that Alec was generally lonely at the school events.”

“Family money, maybe,” Sam offered, getting out of the car. 

Even the asphalt of the driveway had no cracks in in for God’s sake. Castiel frowned. Both agents walked towards the brick entry way and Castiel noticed something that would otherwise be innocuous on the lawn. He reached out and grabbed Sam’s arm. Sam stopped, wincing only slightly and gave Castiel a questioning look. Castiel gestured to the bright red metal trike sitting on the lawn, half covered in snow.

“So?” Sam prompted.

“Alec told Dean he didn’t have any children,” Castiel replied. “That was one of the main reasons that we were all sitting together. So few of the teachers were childless, that those that were tended to congregate.”

“So why would he have a tricycle in front of his house?” Sam inferred.

“Exactly.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Sam said grimly, moving towards the door once again. Castiel reached out and stopped Sam.

“You’re still not one-hundred percent. I’ll go first,” Castiel offered. He climbed the stairs, Sam at his heel, and rang the doorbell. The two agents heard it chime faintly from the front porch but did not sense any immediate movement on the other side. They shared a look briefly before Castiel chose this time to knock. He did so, loudly. They heard faint shuffling and then a muffled voice through the wood and glass.

“Who is it?”

“FBI, we’re looking for Mr. Kruschev,” Castiel chose not to identify himself for the moment. He had a feeling it would not help their case if Alec remembered his name. Castiel decided since Dean’s disappearance to rely on his instincts for a change.

“Just a minute,” the muffled voice again.

Castiel tucked himself behind Sam so he was half obscured. Sam shot him a questioning look at the sudden change but Castiel glared back at him. Sam shrugged, but nodded, just as the door swung open.

“I’m Alec Kruschev,” he said hesitantly once he had eased the wooden door open.

“I’m Agent Winchester this is my partner Agent L’Ange, we—” Sam’s words were cut off by Alec moving to slam the door shut but Castiel was faster; he picked up on the man’s skittishness immediately and managed to wedge his toe in between the door and shove it open, knocking the teacher away and into the wall.

“I take it you recognize me, then,” Castiel remarked, hefting the dazed man up and shoving him back against the wall. “Why were you going to run, Alec?”

“No, please, you don’t—”

“Alec Kruschev, you are under arrest,” Castiel said. He spun Alec around and pressed him rougher than he needed to against the wall, twisting his hands around and slipping the cuffs on his wrists.

“‘Winchester’? Are you Dean’s brother?” Alec asked, looking up at Sam as Castiel hustled Alec out of the house.

“Please be advised, Mr. Kruschev, anything you say at this time can and will be used against you in a court of law,” Sam remarked.

“Please,” Alec pressed back against Castiel; he wasn’t quite as strong as the blue-eyed agent but he had desperation at his side. “Please, listen to me… I had to… You don’t understand… He has my daughter.”

Castiel and Sam shared a glance and Sam closed the front door. The agents and captor moved back into the house and Castiel deposited Alec on the hallway bench, looming over him in the shadowed corridor.

“Do you know what happened to Dean?” Castiel pressed.

Alec nodded hastily, “Yes! I do… I did it. My wife was an executive who - about six months ago - did some work with a man named Fergus McLeod. I don’t think she was entirely certain of who he was at the time. He was very charming despite everything and well… they would talk. 

“McLeod found about me and our daughter, Abby. I was home at the time while my wife worked. I decided to stay home for our daughter. 

“Once when they talked, my wife told McLeod that I was a certified teacher. He seemed incredibly interested and mentioned that there was a position opening up at his son’s school if I was looking to start teaching again. Given the economy, money was getting a little tight, and I was more than willing to take every opportunity I could find. So when he came along with this, it just seemed perfect. I took it without a thought.”

“Alec, you said your wife… was?” Castiel prompted.

Alec looked down at his shoes. “Yes, my wife began to get a strange feeling about some of the business she was doing with McLeod and she began to dig a little bit. It wasn’t long before she found the truth and put two and two together. She pissed off the wrong people and she died in a car accident a month after they began working together. 

“I have no doubt in my mind that it wasn’t an accident. 

“About a month after that I was approached by Meg. She said that her boss had a proposition for me. I didn’t accept at first, of course. I immediately knew who she was working for. Then, one night I woke up to this horrible crash. I raced down the hall to my daughter’s room to see that Abby was gone. Just vanished. I looked for her. I went to the police, but nothing. Then I get a letter in the mail. It was from Crowley, who told me that if I didn’t do what he wanted then my daughter would join my wife.”

Castiel leaned forward and gripped Alec’s shoulder tightly. “How did you know it was from Crowley?”

Alec frowned. “He signed it.”

“What?” Sam asked surprised.

“He signed it,” Alec repeated. “There was nothing explicit in the letter, even my daughter being kidnapped wasn’t referred to specifically. They letter was laid out like a job offer and he signed it Fergus Roderic McLeod. One of the things my wife found was his alias: Crowley. I met with him and he gave me the details in private.”

“My God,” Sam whispered. “Crowley is Fergus McLeod.”

“How did we not know this?” Castiel shook his head.

“Guess he kept his secrets closely guarded,” Sam replied grimly.

“So basically,” Castiel said. “We have everything we need to get him off the street. Mr. Kruschev, would you be willing to testify?”

Alec shook his head. “No! If I do, he’ll kill my daughter. Look, I just told you all this so you’ll let me go, all right? If he finds out I talked, she’s dead.”

“You never presented us with any such stipulation, Mr. Kruschev,” Castiel said coolly and forced Alec to his feet.

“No! Wait, please, stop. I know where Dean is!”

That did get the two men to stop. Castiel shook Alec. “You do?”

“Yes! I do… Or I know how you can find him anyway… Look, I have a phone number, it should still work. Just please, let me go.”

“We can’t do that Alec,” Castiel said gently. “However, we can turn you over to Boston PD and have them put a good word in for you with the District Attorney. They can protect you.”

“What about my little girl?” Alec asked brokenly.

Sam shared a look with Castiel before he turned away and said, “We’ll find her.”

Castiel clenched his jaw at Sam’s words and led the bound man from the house. He wanted to be relieved, he really did, but nothing ever seemed to go this easily. It was all too perfect.

**End Chapter**


	21. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to for the wonderful beta! Thank you!
> 
> Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information

  


Dean opened his eyes and groaned as he became aware once again of the pain rocketing through his body. Dean was surprised to find he was no longer in the large, open area of the warehouse but in a smaller, darker room. There was a single flickering column of fluorescents overhead, half dead with age and barely carrying enough light to brighten Dean’s small space in the centre of the room, let alone the corners. 

Like the rest of the room, the single closed door was windowless. 

Dean quickly realized he was still bound but now with handcuffs as opposed to being firmly stuck to a chair. His wrists were red and sore from where the tape had been violently pulled off. 

Dean frowned and tried to clear the cobwebs from his mind, feeling sick and dizzy and more sore than he could ever remember being. His face was stiff and itchy, rivulets of blood dried to his skin. He was thirsty as well but luckily, or perhaps unluckily, in too much pain to feel anything resembling hunger. His situation was in no way good, but he much preferred it to the torment from earlier with that smug son of a bitch.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to think. He had to get out of here, if only he had been smarter, he wouldn’t have been here in the first place. Going off the handle at Castiel like that, accusing him of things Dean knew in his heart that the older man would never do. Then, to have it compounded with Meg telling him that she had tricked Castiel into it. That she had practically date raped him and even then, drugged and drunk, Castiel had fought it. Meg had been too pissed off to be lying about that, and she had no reason to lie. It’s not like she needed to defend his reputation. 

Dean stopped and had to wonder how he could be such an idiot sometimes.

**_Five Days Earlier_**

_Dean was face down on his bed, fully clothed, glaring into the pillows. The minute he had returned to his apartment after Christmas with Sam, he had yanked all the sheets off the bed and tossed them in the hamper. He didn’t need to sleep surrounded by the smell of Castiel when he had more than enough memories without his other senses getting triggered. It hadn’t helped; the pillow Castiel had used whenever he stayed with Dean still smelled like him. It made Dean equal parts angry and sad._

_A huge part of Dean couldn’t really believe that Castiel had done what Meg had implied. Castiel, who on more than one occasion had ranted about the idiocy of infidelity, who had made Dean himself promise that if he wasn’t interested any longer to just tell Castiel flat out and break the ties. Though, despite all Dean’s misgivings and disbelief, Castiel hadn’t even tried to deny it. Perhaps that had been a good thing. Perhaps not._

_Dean let out a heavy sigh as he pushed himself up from his bed and turned down the sheets. He had been spending far too much time in the safe cocoon of the bedclothes but figured he was allowed. At least for a little while. It was December 27th and he was all alone. It sucked; four years of an amazing relationship (well mostly) and now he was alone._

_Dean had just managed to get one foot out of his jeans when a knock startled him. Grumbling, the teacher pulled them back on hastily, hopping awkwardly to the door, Dean managed to get the pants zipped and buttoned mostly one handed by the time he reached the entrance._

_Campus was essentially deserted, the teachers and students were all home with their families except for the few remaining custodial staff members. Figuring it could only be Castiel or Sam, Dean wrenched open the door ready to yell at either one of them. Sam for driving down here when he was injured, Castiel for being there at all._

_He must have looked more furious than he thought though, even with the building anger, because the look on Alec’s face was borderline frightened._

_“I’m sorry, have I come at a bad time?” the man asked meekly._

_“Jesus! Sorry man! No, no… I just, ah… wasn’t expecting you. I thought everyone had gone home for the holidays. I thought it would be… Never mind. Come in, come in.”_

_Alec gave Dean a shaky little smile and crossed the threshold. He looked embarrassed for whatever reason, and Dean couldn’t think for the life of him why that would be. Perhaps though, Dean thought with slight mortification, Alec had witnessed his display at the Christmas party. Dean hoped not._

_“Look… I’m not entirely certain of how appropriate this is…” Alec began, dashing all Dean’s hopes that his confrontation with Castiel had gone unseen._

_“Man, Alec… I’m am so sorr—”_

_“Dean,” Alec interrupted. “I’m not here to reprimand you or anything of the sort. I’m merely here to offer my condolences and a friendly shoulder if need be. I offered you the permanent position here and I don’t intend to take that away because of a silly little spat over which you had no control. I thought, perhaps wrongly, that we’ve grown to be sort of friends and I am merely here offering my support during a time which you clearly need it.”_

_Dean sagged in relief and offered a shaky smile. “That’s cool of you, Man, and of course we’re friends. You’re about the only teacher around here I ever talked to… I guess I could use the company. I’ve been moping around here for the better part of two days. Come in, come in. Just want to say right off the bat though, that I don’t want to talk about it.”_

_“Understandable,” Alec nodded, he kicked out of his shoes and settled on the couch. “I come with snacks. Left the alcohol at home this time, though.” He presented Dean with the take-out bag, and by the smell it contained burgers and onion rings. Dean had hardly touched food in the past few days and he couldn’t help his mouth from watering once his nose caught the scent._

_Dean chucked, “Man, you’re awesome. This’ll be great.”_

_“Drinks too,” Alec pulled a bottle of water and a bottle of Coke out of the pockets of his jacket and set them on the table. He took the water for himself and cracked the lid, taking a long swallow before smiling tightly._

_Dean watched curiously for a moment but shrugged it off._

_“Dig in, dig in,” Alec prompted. “Oh, wait, my burger is the one lacking tomatoes. I can’t stand the bloody things. I wasn’t entirely certain of how you would like your burger, so I requested the basics. Will it do?”_

_“It will do nicely,” Dean nodded. “Thanks again, Man. So why are you still stuck here over the break?”_

_Alec smiled a little sadly. “I’m afraid the hols aren’t quite what they used to be for me. I’ve… lost a large portion of my family in recent years and have become used to spending the holidays on my own.”_

_“So sorry to hear that, Man. I normally do a big family shindig full of tons of relatives I don’t see very often, but my Mom and Dad decided they didn’t want to host the thing this year and went on a cruise instead. I’m ridiculously jealous of them too… Mom’s been tweeting pics of her swimming with dolphins and lounging on the beach for days now.”_

_Alec raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Your mother tweets?”_

_“My mother is more tech-savvy than I am,” Dean laughed. “The woman has nothing better to do than social network apparently… I personally can’t stand the damn sites and they ain’t good to have in this career anyway, as you probably know. I’ve heard horror stories, Man, you wouldn’t believe…” Dean blinked as a sudden blur crossed his eyes and his mouth went dry. He found that strange but decided perhaps the salt was just getting to him. Castiel hadn’t let him have much salt in recent years after the older man read some articles about high blood pressure and what a family history of heart disease can do to a person. Both Dean’s grandfathers passed away from related issues. Grampa Winchester had a stroke and Grampa Campbell had a heart attack._

_Dean felt a sad pang resonate in his chest and blinked down at his lap to stop the welling sting in his eyes. He finished his burger and onion rings quickly, taking long swallows of Coke after. **Fuck Castiel**. If the blue-eyed man had cared so much for Dean, he could have kept it in his damn pants._

_The dizziness didn’t dissipate though… In fact it seemed to grow. Dean blinked confused eyes over at Alec, who was picking at his own burger idly and staring at Dean with a curiously fascinated gaze. Was Dean acting all right? He was pretty sure it became a hell of a lot quieter in here recently. Alec wasn’t asking though. Maybe it was all in Dean’s head._

_Dean lurched forward and only managed to catch himself on the edge of the coffee table before he could take a header into the hard pane of glass along the top. His Coke bottle toppled off the table and Dean watched half-curiously as it rolled out of sight and underneath the low bottom of the couch._

_Dean blinked when he heard his door open and saw that Alec was no longer sitting where Dean last remembered him sitting. The world was fuzzy around the edges and Dean felt as if he were floating through water. The room sounded like it too: there was muted rushing in his ear and voices (there were two now) sounded muffled and far away._

_“It took longer than I expected,” the deeper voice said._

_“Damn, Dean-o has some fight in him, huh?” a higher voice, lilting and grating. “Help me get him up. I don’t know if he’ll be able to walk. Doused him with enough of Crowley’s Special Blend to knock out a horse.”_

_“After this it’s done, right? I get my girl back?” the deeper voice was desperate now._

_“Sure, Sweetie,” patronizing and flippant._

_Then Dean remembered nothing._

xx

Dean gritted his teeth and slammed his head back against the damp concrete of his cell. Not hard enough to cause lasting damage but certainly hard enough to hurt. He looked around in the dim light, trying to find something, anything to help him out of this mess. 

He always trusted the wrong people. You’d think he’d be used to betrayal by now. Dean was rapidly beginning to realize that betrayal was something you never got used to. He should have figured Alec’s chummy attitude was odd. Really, what boss was that nice at first? 

Dean was a nest of bruises, aches, and cuts but he still managed to awkwardly shuffle across the edge of the cell, looking out for anything he could use. He may have gotten soft and comfortable in his years since becoming a teacher but he still remembered things from his woe begotten youth. 

As he slid along the dirty edge of the room, he heard the faintest sound of metallic scrapping against cement. Dean’s eyes widened and he scrambled around behind his back, hissing as he felt the dull push of a worn point into the delicate tip of his finger. Dean shifted his fingers around until he could run them along the edge and length of the object. His eyes widened; it was a tiny nail. 

Not about to second guess his luck, Dean spun the nail around and got to work on the handcuffs. He would not be caught off guard again.

xx

“Stay here,” Castiel insisted.

“Cas, don’t be an idiot. You don’t honestly think I’m letting you go in there on your own, do you?” Sam glared.

“Sam, I shouldn’t have even let you get this far. One of the conditions was I come alone, so trust me when I say I’m going to do just that. I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine. If you don’t hear from me in twenty minutes, call for back-up to move in but promise me you won’t go in there yourself,” Castiel said urgently. “I failed to protect you once, I’m not about to do so again. Do you understand? Dean would never forgive me if something happened to you. I’d never forgive myself.”

“Cas…”

“Sam.”

“Fine,” Sam sighed. “But fifteen minutes, not twenty.”

“Fine,” Castiel bit back. “Fine. Just… stay put.” Castiel patted his chest and hip once before opening the driver’s side of his SUV and moving to slip out. He paused when he felt Sam’s hand snake out and latch onto his arm. 

Castiel turned with questioning eyes.

“Do you fucking _dare_ get killed,” Sam said ferociously.

Castiel’s smile was crooked but genuine. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

“Castiel, you’ve escaped death by a hair way too many times already. You need to make it out of there so Dean can forgive you, all right? For him.”

“For him,” Castiel nodded firmly. “I promise, Sam. Everything I ever do is for Dean. I’d sacrifice everything I am to see him smile again.”

Sam squeezed Castiel’s arm again, his lips pressed in a firm line before the youngest Winchester nodded and released the older agent. Castiel slid out of the car and shut the door firmly behind him, drawing his gun before taking a step towards the building. 

Castiel had dialed the number Alec had given him and waited for the call-back. When he received it, he had been surprised it was Crowley himself on the other line. Crowley had directed Castiel towards the abandoned prison, with specific instructions to go to the side door. Apparently the front was heavily chained and padlocked. 

Castiel didn’t really want to know how Crowley even found this place or had access to it. He just wanted to know that Dean was all right and safe and then Castiel would worry about taking care of the crime lord. Hopefully, if Castiel gave Crowley enough incentive, the Scotsman would even give up some information on Lilith and then Castiel would take a nice, long vacation. Right now though, he had to worry about staying alive long enough for that to happen. 

Castiel half-expected resistance as he moved through the hallways. It just seemed so dreadfully easy. It was also ridiculously nerve-wracking, expecting something around every turn, only to be met with empty air again and again. He felt as if his boots were too loud in the deserted halls, his suit choking and restricting. Castiel reached up and nervously loosened his tie, rolling his shoulders and shifting his grip on his handgun.

According to the instructions that Crowley had rattled off only a few hours earlier, Castiel was very nearly there. Dean’s captor was set up in the mess hall and would be waiting for the agent. Castiel saw the plate proclaiming the heavy set of metal doors in front of him belonged to the room he was looking for. The blue-eyed man steeled himself before pushing inside, gun raised.

“Welcome home, Honey,” a cool, curling voice broke in, endlessly amused. “Tough day at the office?”

“Where’s Dean?” Castiel demanded. 

Crowley was far less impressive than Castiel was expecting. He was short and stout with a deceptively mild face and a near perpetual smirk on his lips. He was dressed in an expensive suit that Castiel was certain was designer and that Gabriel would have been able to identify had he been here. That didn’t matter, though. Castiel just wanted Dean and then he wanted out.

“Skipping the foreplay, are we? Can’t say I’m not disappointed,” Crowley sighed dramatically. “No bother. First things first. Before I give you your precious little teacher, I have some conditions.”

“You never mentioned any conditions,” Castiel gritted out.

“Yes, because it was always going to be that easy,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’m ashamed, Castiel. Really, I am. I expected more from you than that.”

Castiel took a menacing step forward. “Enough of this. Tell me where you have Dean. Now.” 

Crowley didn’t even flinch; he just rose an almost bored eyebrow. “Aren’t we demanding?”

“Now, Crowley. I won’t ask again,” Castiel gritted out.

“I’m terrified, really,” Crowley remarked flatly. “You honestly think you’re in a position to be  
making demands?”

“I’m not the one with the gun pointed at my head,” Castiel said impatiently.

“Is that what you think?” Crowley chuckled. 

Before Castiel could be surprised, and hating himself for being caught off guard, he felt a sharp jab in his kidney and a hand slice against the juncture of his neck and shoulder blade. Castiel fell to his knees, his gun skittering away across the room. 

Castiel twisted suddenly, startling his attacker and kicking him with the heel of his foot, catching the large man in the stomach and bringing him down to his knees. Castiel jumped up and punched the man in the jaw before dancing around him and grabbing the man around the neck. Gradually the man lost oxygen and it wasn’t long until he was collapsing unconscious to the floor. Castiel looked at the prone form idly for a second before turning cold eyes to Crowley.

“Now perhaps can we discuss your reasons for bringing me here? I’m growing impatient,” Castiel said.

“Yes well… Perhaps that is for the best,” Crowley replied, only slight unease creeping into his otherwise cool tone.

“I’m waiting,” Castiel said. “Why Dean? Why Alec? Why get them in the school and have your own child right in the line of fire?”

Crowley laughed, “You took something from me, Agent… A little matter of the souls. So I’m taking something from you. Not so nice when you’re on the other end, is it? 

“You see, I knew I would never get close to that boy-toy of yours if you were nearby, so I had to orchestrate a little scenario to get you as far away from each other as possible. The fact that Dean was a teacher and my son an elementary school student was merely a convenient solution. 

“I fed the idea of Jesse being in danger to my charming ex-girlfriend. I knew she wouldn’t take this slight on her lightly, especially considering we were working together. That’s another little endeavour you sabotaged, by the way. But I still had Dean nice and close to Jesse and could get everyone exactly where I wanted them.”

“You would use your own child as bait?!” Castiel exclaimed, aghast, visions of a small, dark haired boy with laughing grey eyes flashing unbidden to his mind. Broken and shattered all in an instant because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because Castiel had been late getting there.

“That and oh so much more. He was never in any real danger anyway, not with your Righteous and Noble Teacher his little shadow.”

“You son of a bitch,” Castiel spat, stealing Dean’s much loved phrase. He rushed the smaller man, thrust him painfully against the wall and glared into cold brown eyes. Castiel was gratified to see the man wince at the force.

“I’ve been called worse,” Crowley managed, still infuriatingly calm.

“So all this was just one big convoluted trap? For what? What are you gaining out of this other than pissing me off?” Castiel demanded.

Crowley laughed again, “My dear, you’d think it’d be obvious by now, wouldn’t it? And you were supposed to be the smart one. A _bargaining_ chip, Sweetness.”

“What?” Castiel frowned, backing off.

“Five years ago you destroyed the most lucrative part of my business. I was at the top of my game, had enough girls and boys at my disposal to live long and happy for many years to come. The little bitches practically sold their souls to me to stay where they were. I gave each and every one of them something they wanted. A few were easy, drugs and whatnot, some were more difficult, like protection for themselves or their families, but they were all willing and able. 

“Then you rode in, a white knight to save the day, and destroyed my business. 

“Now, I’m very close to starting it up again. Lilith and I have come to an agreement, you see. It’s all for dear Jesse anyway, isn’t it? I just need you to agree to leave me alone. I let you go your way with your charming boy and you let me go mine. You don’t interfere, and if I ever get into a bind you put in a… good word for me,” Crowley said idly. “In return, I occasionally feed you little tidbits about my esteemed colleagues that will have you basically bounding up the ladder rungs. I wager you’d make Deputy Director in five years.”

Castiel scoffed and glared at the man. “You’re insane. I don’t make deals with demons.”

Crowley shrugged and made a show of straightening and dusting off his suit. “Then Dean dies. Plain and simple. This isn’t really a hard concept to grasp, Castiel. You agree, I tell you where to find your lover, we both walk away unscathed. Everyone’s happy and in one piece. You don’t agree… I get my dear friend there behind you to blow your head off and then I go to Dean and start slicing off all the bits that stick out. 

“He’s pissed me off this last week and I would love nothing more than to finish the job I started.”

Castiel went cold inside, his fist clenching at his side. “How can I trust he’s still alive? What if I agree to this and then he turns out to be dead anyway?”

“I make a deal, I stick to it, Darling. Call it a personal code of morals.”

Castiel snorted, “That’s rich.”

“Yes, well… It’s true. But if you insist, I’ll bring your boy out, you can see him relatively unharmed, and then you give me your word and you can both go,” Crowley shrugged.

Castiel gritted his teeth again, stared very hard down at the cracked and dirty pavement before looking up and nodding stiffly. “Fine. Show me he’s all right, then I’ll give you my word.”

“Lovely. Darling, go fetch our guest, will you?” Crowley said with a winning smile. 

Castiel turned to see the thug at his back nod dumbly before the man ambled away. Castiel waited until he was clear of the room before he moved. In a flash, he had his back-up gun in his hand. A quick stride forward and Castiel had Crowley shoved against the wall once again, this time face forward. He pressed the muzzle of his gun to the smaller man’s temple then leaned in close to his ear.

“We’re going to move in a minute. When your friend comes back in, you tell him everything’s fine and I don’t put you in a wheel chair for the rest of your life, do you understand me?” Castiel growled low.

Crowley scowled and nodded quickly. 

Castiel nodded back and shifted so his back was to the wall, gun pressed to Crowley’s spine as he waited, both of them peering in the direction the thug has just taken. It wasn’t long until purposeful steps and a shuddering gait reached Castiel’s ears. His stomach clenched, dreading to see the shape Dean was in. 

The agent’s heart lurched as Crowley’s goon shoved Dean forward into the room, the green-eyed man barely managing to stay on his feet. Dried blood left a sticky trail from temple, nose and lip. Eyes swollen and blackened, brown blooms clearly visible on Dean’s jeans and t-shirt. At least none of the injuries seemed terribly recent.

Crowley chuckled, “Once again, Castiel, you disappoint me.”

A gun cocked to Castiel’s left and he turned to see Meg training a shotgun at Castiel; there was another door on the other side of the room, half obscured by a rough partition.

“Hello Lover, miss me?” Meg asked sweetly. “Now let Crowley go or my pal there blows Dean’s pretty little head from his shoulders.”

Castiel flicked wide panicked eyes over at Dean who shot the blue-eyed man a tired, resigned smile. “It’s all right, Cas.”

“Dean!” Castiel stuttered. “What are you…?”

“Cas, we’re good, okay? You and I. So it’s all right. Just don’t let that bastard get away.”

“Oh very touching,” Crowley muttered. “Lower you gun Cupcake, Dean-o’s running out of time. Brutus has quite the trigger happy little finger.”

“Cas… Come on, Man,” Dean’s eyes locked with Castiel’s in that moment and then Castiel understood, plain as day.

“Right, right, of course,” Castiel nodded, lowering his arm enough for it to be noticeable. Meg seemed to relax slightly then the next few moments were a blur of motion and a cacophony of gun fire. 

At some point, Castiel realized, Dean had managed to free himself from his cuffs. The moment he noticed Meg was relaxing, the green-eyed man pivoted and swung his unlatched hands up, clipping the man behind him with the sharp metal edge of the shackles. 

Castiel lunged forward and elbowed Crowley harshly in the back of the head, the smaller man bucking forward with a surprised cry. Meg, unsure of who to train her weapon on, swung back at Castiel and cocked the shotgun, raising it and taking aim, just as Castiel was about to fire his own round into the scrambling Crowley. A shot rang out and Castiel froze. He watched dumbly as Meg blinked down at her stomach, slowly blooming red in the low light before the woman coughed out a dark stream of blood. 

Castiel slammed the butt of his pistol against Crowley’s head, knocking the man out cold before turning wide blue eyes at Dean. Dean, who stood perfectly steady, Castiel’s fallen Glock aimed where Meg had stood just a moment before. 

Castiel blinked and looked dumbly across the room as the armour-clad SWAT team filtered into the room, taking Dean to his knees and handcuffing the teacher, before proceeding to do the same with the rest of the splayed bodies on the floor.

Sam ran in yelling orders, but Castiel’s ears seemed to have forgotten how to work. He just watched dumbly as Crowley, his two guns-for-hire, and Dean were hustled out of the old prison. A paramedic came in a moment later, latching Meg to a gurney. 

Castiel fell to his knees, blinking at the dirty concrete in front of him.

xx

A muffled sound startled Castiel awake and he turned tired eyes and a faint smile towards Dean, who blinked open his eyes into the sterile environment of the private hospital room.

“Ah Man… how long was I under this time?” Dean asked, voice gruff and scratchy from disuse.

Castiel chuckled from his spot in the bedside chair. “Just for the night… The nurse gave you something for the pain which put you out pretty fast. You fought it rather hard for a while though.”

Dean groaned, “Remind to never get kidnapped and beat-up again, will you?”

“Dean, you shouldn’t have been able to move,” Castiel said urgently. “I think it was a little more than just ‘beat-up’.”

“I’m a tough sonuvabitch, what can I say?” Dean grimaced. “Adrenaline does wonders, they should bottle the stuff.”

Castiel shook his head. “Dean…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean waved it off. “So ah… what’s the news? Any updates?’

“We have Crowley automatically on the kidnapping charge and assault charge. We also managed to get extortion thanks to Kruschev’s testimony. Meg agreed to testify on the sex trafficking charges, so Crowley should be put away for a good long time. 

“Meg was actually working for Lilith the entire time. She and Ruby were in on it together. Lilith knew Crowley would try something and was sure to plant one of her girls in his organization. It was all part of Lilith’s plan to take Crowley out. When he began threatening their son, it provided her with the opportunity to start her plan in motion. 

“Ruby was captured on purpose to feed us information and Meg was working to find out how to give Crowley what he wanted on Lilith’s behest. She’s been following us for months,” Castiel explained. 

Dean nodded. “So we have Crowley, good. Now you just have Lilith to worry about.”

Castiel smiled. “Actually, no.”

Dean frowned. “Huh?”

“Thanks to you and Jesse, we’ve managed to find something to put Lilith away with.  
“After you mentioned her, I further investigated that Ruby girl Jesse mentioned. It wasn’t the Ruby we had, but it was a girl named Ruby Cassidy. She had been taken off the streets when she was fifteen and forced to work with Lilith. She wasn’t actually very good at the original purpose that she was taken for, but she was pretty good in a fight and good with children. Lilith reassigned her to be Jesse’s nanny, but when Ruby started getting too close, Lilith decided it was best to get rid of her… So she did. 

“Lilith had her killed and buried. She only got away with it for so long because Ruby had never been terribly close to her family. She wasn’t declared missing until after her body was discovered and was never in the Missing Person’s database. It was only the search I did that popped her in the first place. I had a forensic anthropologist investigate and we managed to get enough evidence to find what killed Ruby and put Lilith away.”

Dean blinked. “Just like that?”

“Well… I assure you it was a lot more complicated than I make it out to sound. I unfortunately don’t have the knowledge to walk you through the investigation process of Ruby Cassidy’s remains, but I do promise the evidence is sufficient and Lilith will pay,” Castiel smiled.

“Jesse?” Dean asked sadly. “What will happen to him?”

“I called a favour in to Missouri, remembering her contacts, and she found a good foster home for him. Jesse will be fine,” Castiel said.

“Missouri… She’s awesome,” Dean smiled tightly.

“When I was speaking to her, she also told me your position is ready and waiting for you as soon as you feel better,” Castiel relayed. 

Dean nodded and grinned as widely as he was able, settling back on the pillow for a moment. The silence stretched on, broken only briefly by Castiel’s out-of-character, nervous shift in the hospital chair.

“Dean…” Castiel began hesitantly. “I just want you to kno—”

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean interrupted gently. “I’m not mad anymore. Meg told me what happened when I was captured. You didn’t do anything wrong… Crowley had cooked up this drug… It’s supposed to smell flowery sweet or something… Anyway it was this airborne chemical that decreased inhibitions and made you get drunk on less and faster. A side effect of it is short term memory loss… Anyway, she used it on you when you ran into her and she tried to get you to, well… You know. She didn’t though, Cas, it didn’t work. She told me all she got was a kiss. Before you pushed her away.”

Castiel shook his head. “That explains an awful lot… It was her perfume. I just remembered how cloying it was, and after I ran into her at the bar the night turned into a bit of a blur. I didn’t think I had drunk enough for the results I got that night… I just couldn’t remember. God, Dean, the thought of me doing that to you… I hated myself so much.”

Dean smiled, soft and gentle. “We’re good, Cas. I’m sorry I doubted you in the first place. I should have known better.”

Castiel smiled back and reached out to grab Dean’s hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze, which Dean returned.

**End Chapter**


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The End. Personally, I’m quite pleased with this story. This is the only piece I’ve ever done that is this in depth that was actually finished. I’ve not finished a terrible amount of multi-chapters. They just sit on my hard drive and languish in their own incompleteness. It was quite the journey and though I’m happy it’s done. I am very, very sad at the same time. Comments would be wonderful. 
> 
> Also, allow me to take this moment to thank all of you readers who reviewed this through the process. You kept me going, you really did. So thank you! I am open to doing Timestamps/Side Stories, if anyone would like something expanded upon. Drop me note in the comments and I’ll see what I can do.
> 
> Special Thanks to **Dapperscript** for the wonderful beta! Thank you! She truly made this story readable and was such an utter joy to work with. Big huge thank you!
> 
> Please see [Master Post](http://stolen-childe.livejournal.com/85288.html) for Notes, Cover Art and Further Information

  


**_July 21st, 2012_ **

“Dean… Oh my God… _Dean_.”

Dean spluttered awake and glared at the shadow looming over him. “ _Jesus_ , Sammy!”

“ _Dean_ … I’m freaking out,” Sam flopped down on the mattress.

“Sam, go the fuck to sleep,” a mumbled voice from behind Dean rumbled out from between the blankets.

“Cas, don’t be an ass,” Sam whined. “I’m getting married in just under ten fucking hours.”

“Yeah, which means you have plenty of damn time to _sleep_ , Sam,” Dean muttered, flopping back.

“Dude, come on… I figured you’d have some sympathy for me here. You went through this after all.”

“I was nowhere near as freaked as you,” Dean disputed.

“Yeah, well you got married in City Hall… My God… I have to face Jess’s _grandmother_ , Dean… That woman’s been out for my blood ever since she found out about Sebs,” Sam fretted. “I haven’t seen her since he was born.”

“Yeah well, hard part’s over then, huh? She’s met the kid, at least now you’re doing the whole marriage part. Please, Sam, just go back to sleep for a few hours or hell, hold your kid for a bit. Just chill the fuck out. I’m tired as shit, I am way too old for bachelor parties, and if you want your best man bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when it counts, you’ll leave me the fuck alone,” Dean replied.

“Can you guys continue your lover’s spat out in the hallway? Or, somewhere else _away_ from me? If anyone’s too old for this, it’s me,” Castiel growled out, slamming his spare pillow awkwardly on Dean’s side, catching Sam in the nose lightly as he did.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean muttered nudging backwards.

“Ow,” Sam pouted rubbing his nose. “Dean.”

Dean huffed, “Fine, fine. Get your bitch ass off my bed, I’ll hold your hand and pet your hair for a bit until you shut the fuck up. Just let’s leave Cas alone before I get cut-off for the unforeseeable future.”

“Damn right,” Castiel muttered.

“You charm me, you know that?” Dean glared at the sleepy lump safe and comfortable in bed. 

Castiel chose not to respond, just nestled down further in the covers and curled away from Dean, clearly signifying he was done with this little drama.

Dean huffed but his lips were quirked fondly as he duck-walked Sam out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Dean managed to calm Sam quicker than either of them expected. All Dean had to do was plop Sam down on his and Castiel’s guest bed, hand the sleeping Sebastian to his father, and insist that everything was going to be fine. 

Sam cradled the baby, smiling gently and nodded. He knew a long time ago that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jessica and this was just sealing the deal. They were linked anyway with the amazing little boy in Sam’s arms and adding a piece of paper would do nothing to change how much Sam loved Jessica.

“Are you good now?” Dean asked softly.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded.

“I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Just relax, Sammy. Today is going to be awesome,” Dean grinned.

xx

Mary breezed in at nine o’clock before breezing out again with Sebastian. She gave her three boys firm instructions to get ready and left them to it to go help Jessica. Mary was on baby-watch today and Sam and Jess knew that their son couldn’t be in better hands.

“Just wait until you see him in his little suit,” Mary gushed, before waving and disappearing just as quickly as she came. Sam’s old buddy from law school showed up a little while later and Castiel turned to Dean.

“I should really go over to be with Jessica soon,” the blue-eyed man said. “You’ll be able to handle this without me?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes Cas, I’ll be fine. Just go get your bridesmaid dress on.”

“Ass… It’s not a dress… You’re just jealous that I was fought over and you weren’t,” Castiel shot back.

Dean stuck his tongue out at his husband. “Whatever, I’m best man. I win.”

“I’ll see you at the church,” Castiel smiled gently. Dean kissed him and waved him out the door. 

Jess and Sam both wanted Castiel on their side, but it was decided Castiel would walk down on Jess’s side in the long run. That way he and Dean could leave the church together, which was something both Jess and Sam were rather insistent about. 

From years of weddings before this, Castiel learned the best course of action was just to give the bride and groom what they wanted and he went along with it. 

Castiel appreciated the gesture. After all, some members of the extended Winchester and Campbell family didn’t quite approve of Castiel and were still irritated about the awful events at the end of last year. The blue-eyed agent was grateful for the support Dean at his side would provide. 

Several of Sam’s Campbell cousins had remarked that they didn’t even think Castiel should be in the wedding party. Sam defended Castiel’s honour to the last though, and Castiel had been incredibly touched by Sam’s vehemence. The tall Winchester had, in fact, pulled Castiel aside later and confided that if he didn’t have a brother, he would have made Castiel his best man. It was heartwarming and Castiel almost very embarrassingly cried at the sentiment.

Now finally, Sam and Jessica were getting married and it was going to be perfect.

xx 

One last handful of birdseed rained down on the newly-weds and Castiel stood with Dean pressed to his side, watching Jessica’s pink shoe and white dress disappear into the Impala. Dean had graciously offered the use of his baby for what he playfully termed ‘the get-away car.’ The washable paint along the back window proudly proclaimed ‘Just Married’ in curved elegant script and old tin cans were tied to the back bumper. 

Jessica’s bridesmaids and various guests swarmed the smooth black vehicle, waving as the car eased away from the hall and into the gathering dusk. 

Sam would be taking two weeks off of work but he and his new bride would only be spending the next two days at a spa for their honeymoon. Neither Jessica nor Sam wanted to leave Sebastian for very long. Dean and Castiel had to fight with the couple to get them to part from their infant for the mere two days they had eventually conceded to.

“What do ya think? Resounding success?” Dean grinned, shifting Sebastian to his other side and looking over at Castiel. 

Castiel opened his mouth to respond but was cut off as he was crushed against a solid side and his hair, which had been so artfully tousled, was roughed into an unruly mess.

“You make a beautiful bridesmaid, Cassy,” Balthazar breathed into Castiel’s ear.

Castiel grimaced at strong alcohol scent on Balthazar’s breath before he nudged his brother away. “Gee, thanks.”

“I dunno though, I always figured Dean was more the girl in the relationship,” Gabriel bubbled, clinging to the unsteady Balthazar’s side, not exactly sturdy on his feet himself.

“Who’s driving the two of you home?” Dean asked archly.

“Driver,” Gabriel replied.

“He has a name, Darling,” Balthazar said drunkenly.

Gabriel frowned. “What is it?”

“Ah…” Balthazar stared at a spot far off to the right, his eyes crossing in concentration. “Saturday.”

Gabriel snickered, “I don’t think that’s right.”

“Good night you two,” Castiel sighed, looping his arm under his brother’s shoulder and walking both staggering men down the steps as Balthazar’s Escalade came around the corner. Castiel leaned into the driver’s window and said a few quick words to the chauffeur, whose name Dean and Castiel knew to be Tony.

“Night Cassy! Luuuuvv youuuu!” Gabriel plopped a messy kiss on Castiel’s lips at the same time as Balthazar yanked his brother to his side again and pressed a kiss to Castiel’s now mussed-beyond-saving hair.

“Tell the Wookie that I’m happy for him!” Balthazar shouted up at Dean. “Jess is one fine lady.” 

Gabriel acted affronted and their cheerful goodbyes devolved into a drunken squabble as Castiel urged his brother and brother-in-law into the car and gave Tony the signal to drive on.

Castiel came back up the steps, clearly embarrassed at some of the looks the few remaining guests were giving him. 

Dean chuckled and pulled Castiel in for a kiss before transferring Sebastian to the older man’s hold and tugging on his elbow.

“Let’s say bye to Mom and Dad then get the hell out of here,” Dean said.

“Agreed,” Castiel replied.

It had been a long, strenuous, nerve-wracking but gorgeous day. Castiel tried to think back to the last time he had been this blissfully happy and realized that he couldn’t recall another instance like it. He grinned, the width of the smile actually startling Dean before Castiel pulled the green-eyed man towards him and kissed him soundly.

“I love you.”

They were still standing close when Sebastian cooed between them. Dean chuckled and dropped a quick parting kiss on Castiel’s lips before pulling back and making faces at his nephew. 

Sebastian giggled and reached up. Dean let the baby wrap a tiny hand around his index finger and together the three of them walked through the threshold of the church.

“Whatta think, Cas. Should we get one?” Dean asked idly.

_**The End** _

**Author's Note:**

> First I have to say I’m Canadian as a Canadian can be (well not that bad) so I know little more than what I’ve seen on TV about the FBI and the States. I glean most of my information for this story from _Fringe_ and _Bones_ which is partly why I chose to set this story in the Boston Area. Though I have been to Washington D.C. it was over ten years ago and I figure setting an FBI drama there is too cliché. I’ve never been there, but I think Boston is pretty and wonderfully historical which is something I love about places. I’ve never put as much research or background information into one of my stories before so I hope it does shine through. I’ll try my best with this one. Though it is primarily a romance even though the relationship is established. 
> 
> Also, I will be trying to use as many characters from the show as possible to limit my need for OCs. Andea Barr is from one of my favourite episodes 1.03 “Dead in the Water.” I’m a big Amy Acker fan and it was actually that episode that had me watching Supernatural fulltime. She’s not a massive part of the story but she is referenced several times and she will have several on-screen appearances. Meg is of course brunette Meg because that kiss from the season six episode “Caged Heat” was surprisingly hot, she's a significant element to the story but I wouldn't say she's a _main_ character really... 
> 
> This is mainly staring Dean and Castiel with a good dose of Sam. Several other characters will make an appearance. If I feel they need further explanation I will do so in my notes at the beginning of each chapter but the other ones I’ll be using, people are pretty familiar with.


End file.
